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Anticipation Strangles Desire

Structured wisps of personality sigh,
there's an artistic generous whipped wind,
flutters of independence; gathered light,
and beauty whispers sweet romantic lies
across the cool breadth of an open mind,
here in love's vortex time is infinite.

Delicate sweeps of apathy brush swirls;
petticoat finery on the body
of sensuality - such a fine cloud,
gasps in quiet air are wrapped in smoke's twirls,
definition swings on laughter; boldly,
hot malice steals an atmospheric shroud.

Hues of purple colour call to lilac,
I stretch imagination to limits
and wander across freedom's feathered tones,
when blown into the sky's lithe-laced hammock
the friendly angel wings of dark circuits
battered the spirit with right-wrong cold stones.

After eternity has had her way,
invisible chains will perhaps snap woe,
a new awareness; a different shade,
on the distant horizon waits the day
when reincarnation's sin will burrow
this deranged expectation's tortured glade.

"O' dangerous souls that seek out my art,
tear those eyes away from dead existence,
maybe you will be saved from this light fate
and not have to devour boredom's heart,
a silent wish is still a rolled presence,
be careful in between the thighs of hate."

Anticipation strangles desire
with the tattered threads of buttered visions,
perplexity sneaks glances at crass scenes
while wonder licks imagery's barbwire,
cruel mentality's addressed actions
are now bursting anarchy from blue seams.

Tomorrow is but a promise of lead
which drags down the whorls that fracture my face,
I am a contradiction; light in dark,
stutters of rapture crash anger's wild head,
no possibility for wired grace
as determination's ship I embark.

Forgiveness has stumbled before God's soul,
there it will flap breath in time's deep language
while performance pierces plastic purpose,
when the future's delivered; part or whole,
I shall scream flames of reckless heritage
into the domain of crinkled blandness.

For the present though I will languish here,
pop scenarios on the edge of life,
listen to their sparkles as they dance cries
of magical musical wanton fear,
I'll linger on the wet blade of sharp strife
while shivers ripple waves into these eyes.
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Submitted on September 22, 2010

1:50 min read

Ian Sawicki Claim this poet

Ian Sawicki has been writing poetry for over twenty years. He is a Manchester born poet, who has dedicated his life to exploration and composition of poetry. His work reflects the many great influential experiences of his life, the pain, the pleasure combined to create new exciting poetry. If anyone is interested in my books then please visit my lulu storefront. All artwork on these books is by my own hand. http://stores.lulu.com/chasingtheday more…

All Ian Sawicki poems | Ian Sawicki Books

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