Poem - My Fiend
Jan. 28th, 2017 09:24 am“My Fiend” is a play on words for “my friend”. The poem is about an emotion or feeling that may dominate while hiding its true nature from the deluded victim. To name this thing would be to own it, with full possession the end of times.
My Fiend
Enemies would be a waste of time
my friend in want, not in deed
when I have you by my side
emotion of desire manifest
thirst, craving, yearning need
you are all these and so much less
ashes brought to mouth instead of meat
empty promises to the questing soul.
The Buddhists say that suffering
is your child in all of life
with the Eightfold Path as the way
to remove you from my tapestry
there you’re woven if I allow
homage to morph to something else
with the tipping point camouflaged
in sentiments mocking of true love.
Clinging is where you manifest
attachment to the outside world
passionate desire for fantasy
even if the outcome is detriment
still you bind in ropes of my mind
with heart twisted to compensate
for damnation that few admit
when you take control of circumstance.
Still I ask you to ride along
on the journey of my sorry life
companion instead of enemy
though the latter is your capacity
mounting the wheel with no escape
turning round to grind my life
it’s too easy to walk the path
with no exit except to cry.
In the end I’ll call you out
note the lies you whisper soft
in my ear as limbs desire
for something more than what I have
I’ll not give you a proper name
instead to speak in roundabout
cast allusions to you my fiend
lest you stop me before I escape.
© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170128.
My Fiend
Enemies would be a waste of time
my friend in want, not in deed
when I have you by my side
emotion of desire manifest
thirst, craving, yearning need
you are all these and so much less
ashes brought to mouth instead of meat
empty promises to the questing soul.
The Buddhists say that suffering
is your child in all of life
with the Eightfold Path as the way
to remove you from my tapestry
there you’re woven if I allow
homage to morph to something else
with the tipping point camouflaged
in sentiments mocking of true love.
Clinging is where you manifest
attachment to the outside world
passionate desire for fantasy
even if the outcome is detriment
still you bind in ropes of my mind
with heart twisted to compensate
for damnation that few admit
when you take control of circumstance.
Still I ask you to ride along
on the journey of my sorry life
companion instead of enemy
though the latter is your capacity
mounting the wheel with no escape
turning round to grind my life
it’s too easy to walk the path
with no exit except to cry.
In the end I’ll call you out
note the lies you whisper soft
in my ear as limbs desire
for something more than what I have
I’ll not give you a proper name
instead to speak in roundabout
cast allusions to you my fiend
lest you stop me before I escape.
© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170128.