Serpent Kundalini

© 2012 David Jasmin-Green

Besieged by an ever increasing heat
the monster Eros (if that its real name)
rears its ugly, deceitful head one last time
in the supposedly settled autumn of my years.
A gut-wrenching burning, an urgent, throbbing hunger
transforms the great, dependable oak
I always considered myself to be
into a loose thicket of disagreeing saplings
futilely fighting a resolute wind
that slowly but surely tears them
from their shallow foundations,
batters them against the uneven crenellations
of a scattering of conveniently placed boulders
and determinedly blasts away their living bark.

Maybe I crave mystery too much;
maybe it's a final rash act of vanity
that my ego fatuously demands,
or perhaps I just fancy a refreshing change.
I used to be a rock, powerful in spine,
I used to be a tree well rooted in deep, nourishing soil
standing proud in the depths of an ever moist forest,
but the dry sediments of misplacement
that petrified my sullied, undeserving brain
and mummified my lustful roots
for more years than I care to remember
unexpectedly moves beneath my feet.
My native earth erupts in lordless, liquid violence
and my awful craving for woman flesh
is no longer safely sated and solidified.

Out of raw fear I strive to create myself anew,
but that hastily cast spell fails to work its magic.
Small creatures run screaming for cover
as the forest burns majestically.
My coupling spring creaks,
reverting from a long familiar slackness
to a hideous tightness
straining towards its only goal,
desire for the sake of desire.
Steel heats under friction,
the stealthy trap covertly opens
and its highly polished, well-honed teeth
reflect the cold eyes of an old serpent
bursting from the molten sands
that moulded my last manifestation.