It Starts with the Screaming (Oh My...) (9/13/2020). -M.Weisgerber

 Then the pleading, the begging, the whimpered whispered crying, oh God

giving way to the dreadful shame of flailing, knowing all what’s given, 
assuming what is soon to follow, Lord take it, cut it, sew it shut, let us 
know any other love than this, let me, let any other sight of us fail. Useful
 
For my heart breaks, my soul it shakes down to where toes touch nimbus
collapse to the floor, inhale the spores that nightshade offers so freely,
dying of dreams stacked so neatly; let the bones shatter at the sight,
breaking will come soon, but love how, just tell me oft how
 
you will look upon these words and not notice?  The pupils widen so, the
small part of your mind that witnesses each word & sentence sprung, not
from my pen but from a deeper well of this hive alive, these lips still 
quivering for your love, a moment, anything this world knows good.  Yet
 
sure she see everything a man has yet to give & say it’s not enough?  A 
LIFE?! it’s better than receiving (A KNIFE)? certainly held fast, quaking
hands are best to give, held then to condemn yet nothing more than the
very soul of a man; a human opened up more freely than tools allow.
 
So no, no, it starts with the quiet, then giving in to pleading, a mind
flaming out towards disbelieving; a breaking of a heart, yes I shook yours 
you took mine too, but love I swear that madness now is worth it, the 
many months of toil for a moment in the Son, I, I,
 
I want to take sexist attitudes & squash such simple faces, I want to yell
platitudes from rooftops I’ll never live to see, I want to ride, ride
hard shaped cold of polar opposites blended together, get rid of lines of
any equator or the other dividing parts that forever thus kept us apart.
 
Still more failure then yet to be.  Yet to come.
 
So how do you cast eyes upon this quaking face, the lines this blood filled 
socket of eyes that pass, rays from slanted turns of the earth, the very
pacing of the days giving in to night, the panic of the right to say I love.
 
You.  You mattered.
And if the red comes?  And the screaming, and the hate, oh you, love
if you thought just a simple betrayal was all that’s worst to offer, then you
no you didn’t know the poets odium or the talent of a torn mind.  No you
 
You didnt, dont know the furry of a man, the shaking of fists to dark skies
don’t know how to take to the seas; for he sails for days on hope, he
writes lyrics to an ode that crashes mightily on strange shores you’ll not
no simply will not ever need, to shatter & clatter again & again & again?
 
Fury, love, hatred – what do you know of this music, the words? I, I
shall show you madness held on the head of a grain of sand, I shall paint 
you a lighthouse collapsing into the sea, I & a hundred thousand million 
more of my ilk to come shall render your heart immortal, love.  Timeless.
 
A holler against hard surf, a trial between the nerves caught on razor rock
the space between the lip & the cup that goes where the heat makes it
dance between the moments of strange words, the blur of black upon 
the white, blue - no this knight rides not for you but for hope in hope itself. 
 
I want to be sad for all the days we never had, jump for the joys we kept,
conquered armies of legions of trial & despair knowing not your lies, lair
glorious, simply stunningly, those things you barely knew, held awhile
giving way to what’s to come; shadows behind the spots of sun, or fate.
 
All you have to do, all you have to do is…
 
So heart, dear other organs failing now or never meant yet to be, yet
(What is this feeling coming over my veins?) 
what is this sense, birthing beyond the shame?
Take me, make me, shake me all.  Hold me love, in deus ex rexa,
 
heed this wary call. 
(or with the simple knowing, take then and receive.)
 
It starts with the, it
starts with the
It
It starts with
 
(the pleading)
 
 
Adieu.