Troy
There are places we walk out ofeyes open, and because of revelations,
eyes shut, we stumble in.
In lingering moments, memory
in floods of opportunities
in eyes, a frown, a twist of words
extinguishes the flame.
Then, without a drop to drink,
the New Me,
I elicit your opinion,
all ears, all listening, all debatable:
My way is the sensible way.
You will leave
and I will stay –
no idle promises
and you are surprised I said so.
It is a logical decision
that hauls the issues before judges.
Their decisions are so important!
Their judgment is inviolable!
What do I gain by such subrogation?
It is my new life I regain
and not yours to destroy again.
There are places I am driven from,
hearts closed, and places to where no mobs rule,
that heart opened, I am driven to.
It seems,
I am your Troy
with all those gift-bearing Greeks
(oh, and hidden agendas inside some hefty "whorse"– yes!)
as you attempt to o'erwhelm my walls
destroy my will, my dreams;
you attempt to satisfy yourself with me, and she, and she and
whatever other she you want contemporaneously
to satisfy your sexuality.
You will batter my battlements
till there are no words left to repel you,
and nothing of the me that was
will yet remain
just an empty shell of what was once
an unassailable Troy.
And when you are gone, as Troy,
a stronger I shall yet remain.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 482 times
Written on 2007-04-08 at 08:42
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