This is the sequel to Call It Courage. It was written years later. As I read it, I can see the influence of college on the content.
It was quite a serious poem at the time, but it amuses me now. I take myself far less seriously these days. Yet I am also void of poetry now. Perhaps I’ll find a cure for that soon. I wonder if Bushmills would still work for that? If not, at least the prose still overtakes me.
Enjoy….
Within
a poem d.b. mcneill
It’s been years since I was whole.
He put his finger through my soul.
I am caught beneath the wheel
never knowing what to feel.
Still walking westward with the rain,
I seek new ways to speak my pain.
The Earth sucks muscles down my bones.
I suspect I’ll be alone
when I die.
All my life and lives before
the rich could always eat the poor.
Unable to break the silence screaming,
unable to wake the world from dreaming,
velvet here, he waits within.
He has crawled beneath my skin.
No claws or knife can dig him out.
So greet the dawn with strangled shout.
The howling light, the colors streaming,
all the world will still lay dreaming.
Never having strength for peace
A man can only seek release.
I watched the orgasm of his death,
heard music in his dying breath
and it’s been years since I was whole.
He put his finger through my soul.
db mcneill - Momsomniac 
This is a dramatic poem. It’s curious that you find it amusing now…I guess years tend to do that 🙂
It’s the Herman Hesse reference that makes me smile (among other things). I was VERY deep! ; )
Somehow, I have gotten much goofier with age.
Noble is, that noble does. – German Proverb
– http://shnl2.blogspot.com/
“Love is the word used to label the sexual excitement of the young, the habituation of the middle-aged, and the mutual dependence of the old.” ~ John Ciardi
“I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved.” ~ George Eliot