poetry, trails of thought

Needs / Wants / Freedoms / Endings

I always did use to argue

that needs were more important than wants;

that wants were a luxury; that needs were

a necessity; that your needs should outweigh

my wants.

 

In a sense, however, I now realise I was wrong:

I was wrong as soundly as the sound of a

gong, ringing out brightly above latterday

music, composed to ennoble the streets and the

cities.

 

In terms of physical needs, and survival at the

limit, your needs at first must have priority

over luxury chocolate; my dark and

mysterious liquids; my desire for the unusual,

the unexpected and the de-

natural.

 

But in terms of other emotional realities, if you

are to burningly need me as in romantic

love, the attachment you profess is not a choice

you make but an action you feel violently bounden

to follow; and whilst this is grand, and

whilst this makes love a wonderful unthinking

act of generosity, since tidal wave of emotion

does drive it all, we cannot say you’re

loving me simply because you have chosen

such

a way.

 

And if you are to love me as I would have

you love me, and if I were to love you

as I would have me love you,

then in such a world of ideal circum-

stance, we would want each other always –

never need.

 

There will come a day, a day of helpless

sadness, when the job of a lover will not

be to love with ease, but rather

to spend their significant time, caring for

another who no longer can jump and dive into

love with the grandiose joy of unbridled

life, a reigning over of senses –

a reining in of opportunities –

in a way we never

knew and can no longer recall.

And that day of sad forgetfulness will

pursue us all quite gravely; and the aim of any

love right then will be to assert its sacrifice,

so bravely.

 

But until such a day arrives – if for you and me

arrival doesn’t already begin to present itself –

let us enjoy if not the practice at least the memory

of loves, physically exchanged through touch and

mind, reminding us courageously

of what might once have been.

Standard
poetry

Rom[antic] l{over}[s]

Let us disabuse ourselves scientific-

ally of all not-

ions of madly romantic love:

they involve being

swept along a tidal way of need,

and I do not want you to need me

for that is no freedom.

Such need imposes its will;

it ain’t you who’s doing the choosing.

 

Far better a love where the partners do

want each other: where that tidal

wave still exists but is hidden from

view and does not drive the choice;

where the liberty of choice

tells me you truly do value me in all that

I am: not because you see me madly

but precisely because you see me well.

 

I am at one with my past, just about

sorted: that past slowly is becoming that

other passed, and so I can now become able

to move onto another plane of my life

where sheets uncrumpled may one day be

no so, as lives do turn full circle.

Standard
poetry

T[alkward]

I feel awkward talking about things I did bad-

lying and scheming and being the

kinda person when I wa[e]nted to be a

kinda[er] person: not childish in German

sense but gentle-

[r] in English.

And I live and breathe the language I write

and speak and kiss with my lips

starved of

your tongue and song of life and simple

magnifi-

sense: yes, in your pre-

senses everything is bigger: grander,

finer, willing itself so [wonder-

{ful]-

sum} of your parts – in my heart and

for sol

i-

tarry less by now: oh how this con-

fuses my body untrue.

Standard