deepundergroundpoetry.com
~I am the Pneuma~
crescendo building,
it’s inevitable
from the first beat to pique
the small hairs in my ears;
spilling tentatively, slowly
from sleek-shiny speakers,
anticipation of the climb
is almost tangible,
curling into tendrils
above my head;
lazy, yet distinctly
predatory
in the most beguiling fashion;
my mind lays helpless
and writhing
against the sensory onslaught
coming this way;
wrists and ankles bound
at my own insistence,
ensuring I stay present
for the whole experience;
time to give me all you’ve got
~it’s why I’m here~
I’m desperate in this space;
the need to cast my unease
into the tamed chaos,
shed these garments of shame
and caress my proud countenance
with hard and silky riffs,
to find some sort of
surface-level redemption
builds momentum by the moment;
my soul needs a good flogging,
requiring penance, perhaps?
I know, as always,
here is where I’ll find it;
crisp and clear and painful
~self awareness is a bitch~
asymmetrical symphonies
the quarter notes suspended,
hesitating only briefly
before bursting,
dissipating into
the flow of the full-bodied
baritone that follows;
melodies that pull
then push,
just inside
my comfort zone,
that cerebral barrier
meant to keep you out;
there’s a message here,
undress and find your position,
you’ve got to be wide open -
naked and exposed
to grasp the truth
in the words on display,
but hey, what a ride
~if you’re brave enough~
high-pitched interludes
sting, then soothe their bite
sawing,
rowing,
undulating,
low, vibratory frequencies;
my soul sits up sleepily
and takes notice,
slowly, seductively swaying
to the sexy round strike
of slim bark to skin
stretched over steel
steady and irregular rhythms
intersecting and overlapping;
if there is such a thing as magic,
it grows in this garden
of stuttered
and unpredictable cadences
~I am mesmerized~
my spirit sinking into
its heady scent, I seek
refuge in my bones,
I am forced to face my apathy
encouraged by my empathy;
my spine slithers
into its remembered dance,
hips swaying in tandem
to the allurement of
existential query;
of hope and hope lost
~I am the Pneuma~
it’s inevitable
from the first beat to pique
the small hairs in my ears;
spilling tentatively, slowly
from sleek-shiny speakers,
anticipation of the climb
is almost tangible,
curling into tendrils
above my head;
lazy, yet distinctly
predatory
in the most beguiling fashion;
my mind lays helpless
and writhing
against the sensory onslaught
coming this way;
wrists and ankles bound
at my own insistence,
ensuring I stay present
for the whole experience;
time to give me all you’ve got
~it’s why I’m here~
I’m desperate in this space;
the need to cast my unease
into the tamed chaos,
shed these garments of shame
and caress my proud countenance
with hard and silky riffs,
to find some sort of
surface-level redemption
builds momentum by the moment;
my soul needs a good flogging,
requiring penance, perhaps?
I know, as always,
here is where I’ll find it;
crisp and clear and painful
~self awareness is a bitch~
asymmetrical symphonies
the quarter notes suspended,
hesitating only briefly
before bursting,
dissipating into
the flow of the full-bodied
baritone that follows;
melodies that pull
then push,
just inside
my comfort zone,
that cerebral barrier
meant to keep you out;
there’s a message here,
undress and find your position,
you’ve got to be wide open -
naked and exposed
to grasp the truth
in the words on display,
but hey, what a ride
~if you’re brave enough~
high-pitched interludes
sting, then soothe their bite
sawing,
rowing,
undulating,
low, vibratory frequencies;
my soul sits up sleepily
and takes notice,
slowly, seductively swaying
to the sexy round strike
of slim bark to skin
stretched over steel
steady and irregular rhythms
intersecting and overlapping;
if there is such a thing as magic,
it grows in this garden
of stuttered
and unpredictable cadences
~I am mesmerized~
my spirit sinking into
its heady scent, I seek
refuge in my bones,
I am forced to face my apathy
encouraged by my empathy;
my spine slithers
into its remembered dance,
hips swaying in tandem
to the allurement of
existential query;
of hope and hope lost
~I am the Pneuma~
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