game

you are a man of pleasures..

you live your life according to your obsession with the cultivation of aesthetics.




wild debauchery and loathsome acts that cause the falsely divine to shake there heads in shame.


you've not a single care in the world that does not exist outside of drink food women and everything else sensual.


to you, human beings and their feelings are play things that you quickly tire of.



why then do you speak of emotion?
compassion?
and longing?

what games do you play now.. saying things such as, 'to approximate this woeful sensation that has overwhelmed me with words is as frivolous as to try to convince you of its validity. As such, words are the representations of man's "ideas".. never an accurate description of his feelings.'

i spit on that. what do you.. a hedonistic monster.. know of feeling?




you sir are merely the beast product of your tragic upbringing. talented, only in the way that you can exist as a clever devil.. outside of "God's" grace.

you've no right talking about love.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I don't know. The people who use and abuse awake one day to learn they are a lone and no-one give a s**t about them. The world is moving too fast. People forget to talk and forget to be friends. The days of long conversation and listening is rare and missed. I like this poem. I know many lonely people who has it all once. Now they come to my house and enjoy my family. Last line can be true. You can learn a lot from a person who gave no-one anything but grief. A outstanding poem. I miss your direct and honest poetry.
Coyote