Caricamento in corso...
Summer Interior, by Edward Hopper
Robert L. Martin

Fools of Compulsion

Mother Nature dressed in beauty
in the embodiment of Eve,
the advocate of beauty
and what it does to the common man
caught in the throes
of the alluring sweetness,
perfume of the wild casting its scent,
drifting with the winds of Gomorrah,
blowing into the faces of fools,
the lovers of compulsion,
the divers into the heated pools,
the paradises of the fanatics
who love the prisons of love,
the inescapable power over them,
the smothering of its scent,
the grabbing a hold of the heart,
then the skin, then the groin
then the manipulation of the mind,
and ultimately the control
of what is lost in the frenzy,
 
then the compulsion to
stay in love’s sweet prison,
to feel its heated tentacles
gathered around the heart,
blowing through the nostrils
smothering the senses,
reaching into the mind,
the soul, the spirit, the all,
 
then the compulsion to
keep that feeling forever,
the hold it has in the spirit,
the way it controls the mind,
the way it leads fools
through the wilderness
into the furnace of love,
the gratification of the senses.

I got inspired to write this when I saw on TV about the woman teacher being led off to jail for sexually abusing one of her students, the same one for the second time.

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