Uncategorized Writing

The Hunger (Poem)

Wow, slow week for the blog, yet here I am again. It’s Throwback Thursday. Where I dig out a putrid poem (or writing) of my past. Last week I posted “Nemesis” which I’ve always been proud of. I said it was written around 1995, I think maybe 1993 because I found a companion piece. And a piece it is. It’s alright. It uses large words. I guess I had to prove something. I was tempted to edit it a bit, but here it is in all it’s gory … um … glory.

The Hunger

I step into the night.
It’s fresh cool air wraps about me.
Teasing me with tantalization,
Fragrances that float in harmony
On a sea of swirling air.

I close my vivid seeing eyes
To the sights that cannot be seen.
I listen to the fragrant air ocean,
Hearing and seeing many things.

Blissful and tempting
Calling only to me
And I listen as I look.

A boy … playing basketball
Alone, determined, yet fresh and free.
Tempted by little, asking for less.
Filled with young purity.

Even younger a baby cries
Hot tears of neglect flash across its face.
Too simple for the feast,
Too young to condemn to death.
Yet it cries, wanting to be free.

Another scent … a painted prostitute,
Virginity long time lost.
Purity tied to a locket.
A mother dead, lost and forgotten
To all but the painted child.

Hot sweat, sweet to smell.
Undulation of love, two lovers,
Timelessly locked in fleshy fornication.

A young woman sleeping,
Soothing breaths lift her breasts.
Beating heart, patterned lightly.
Crimson flow calling in the wind.

I hear it all in the cool night,
Pleasure, Chaos, Hunger’s price.
So much to listen.
So many thoughts.

The hunger is haunting,
But tonight I think I shall only listen
To an ocean of air, free of hunger.

Well, really no rhyme or reason to the line breaks or such. So I don’t know what kind of rhythm I was attempting. Maybe none. As alway, let me know what you think. Like the protagonist, I hunger.