Friday 9 June 2006

02:58 -- CODE BLACK
I found that once I fell in love and got married, my poetry suffered. It is sad to think that poetic flowery words can only flow from despair and sadness, but yet it seems, they do. In my heart of despair I found words to be my only company, and in such company, I found the prose and heart to seek out another from across a long expanse of ocean and bring her home to me. Now, I find I need those words to express what cannot be very well expressed, and I hope those words have not abandoned our friendship. The jilted lovers, the haters of men who crave happiness to fill their hollow hearts have often expressed to my wife that men should buy dying vegitation as an expression of their undying love. I find the whole idea an absured and shallow ritual that does nothing but deprive loved ones of the joy of surprise at having real expressions of love come out at unexpected times. Dying vegitation, no matter how beautiful or well preserved cannot do justice to the day to day existance of sharing a life with another. That is the true expression of love. So as I wandered the streets alone tonight because of a trivial matter, I wished and yearned for the hole in my existence to be filled. I had friends with me, and they felt the same feelings. The joy of the moment and place was gone because the joy is in sharing that moment and place with another. That is precisely why I sought out, pursued and fought for the one that I have. I am not about to spoil that by having a carnal exploitation with some starving soul as a means of affirming my youth. My youth is half gone and I know this and accept my place in life. It is the hardest thing to love someone who does not love themself first. Always jealous, always suspicios and always overly possessive -- never assured that the absence of their loved one means that they are keeping the faith. It is a trait that I hope we can work through and overcome, this destructive jealousy. Jealousy is the devils true name, and in that name much suffering has been endured. It is hard to make yourself realize that jealousy is only selfishness incarnate. It is more than that thought -- it is self-destructiveness about to act, about to devour, it is eating for the sake of occupying ones mouth, and eating only that which is most precious, not for the nutrition but for the sheer destructive satisfaction. Black widows do not eat their mates because of hunger. When out of momentary anger and lapse of reason everything that is loved is destroyed, what do you have left? The black widow.... Vegitation is best left in the garden to be appreciated for its true beauty and purpose, not placed in some urn as in a funerary vase. Perhaps that is why there are many unhappy souls who recommend a urn of death as a symbol of love, because they understand little but jealousy, possesiveness and suspicion and expect a sacrifice to symbolize something that they cannot give themselves. Their reccomendations are a means of making themselves feel a shallow fulfillment by making all around them as unhappy as they are. This misery loves company crowd cannot, will not and do not love themselves, and thus should not be trusted as friends. I have said this many times, and dying vegitation cannot make up for a dying romance.

But that's TMI

Stevo