off the gridA Poem by RuseInexsometimes the soul doesn't want to be rescuedcoffee pot galvanized midnight blue with specks white chipped enamel its cylinder body's flecks sits on wood burning cast iron stove stoic its protruding spout touts caffeine elixir rush intoxicating aroma for old time peculator, simple strainer nostalgia, metallic seive and tube hot water physics brews the beans, high tech stuff in rustic back woods cabin stove stoked with split oak wood, gnarled, twisted dry, takes work, steel splitter, sledge hammer love hate relationship peaks and lows, brutal blows, manual holds back breaking grips, combustion's heat sequoia forest beauty negates fatigue's drain by pain snow drifts nine feet thick, as is my head feels now, last night's bourbon's hits heart to hearths talk with the fire me and she, my fiery flickering seductive friend warms to heat my cold cheeks, speaks mesmerizes incites delight, dreamy pleaures her undulating hips her licking, crackling lips, she speaks and whispers soft secret talks, deep as the drifts outside gonna snow again tonight, silver clouds' tenacity six pointed wonders of crystal ice, light as feathers frail, moonlight shining through cigar smoke dreamy blue, rising gossamer wisp delicate evokes; is there a new york, a los angeles, out there? are there such things as war and crime busy city streets, congested littered , roads, haphazard cracks, razorwire, drunken telephone poles' wires, sirens' manic panic, 1001 cable shows and nothin' on? this cabin, my womb, outside snow ceaseless falls are there planets called saturn, mars, pluto dwarf, galaxies, endless cosmic space? the blizzard's gonna hit sometime this week i'll be socked in for a week or more let it be a month and more, snow drifts bury me under 25 feet, cocooned my blood will flow hot, claustrophobic trapped stoic scared my heart will thump self contained suffocated isolation transfixed betwixt fear of death and regeneration verges edge of asphixiation
i'll keep the stove stoked, in the meantime, door unbolted, exit entrance path unobstructed shovel's travail, pleas' respite serves no avail the roof is pitched 45 degrees slant, with snow so thick weight's tonnage could collapse my body will not escape this trap my heart will not try my soul does not care © 2016 RuseInex |
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Added on March 13, 2016 Last Updated on March 13, 2016 AuthorRuseInexFresno, CAAboutI was born in obscurity Outside a small country town’s limits In a plank shack I kept a few memories That come into my head That i still carry around That i visit now and then The dust .. more..Writing
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