A Useless Thing Called Love
Remember speaks its semaphore
in passing eyes elicit stare
coquette the lip is waiting for
some smoldering shadow shall dare
Make threat to mountain with needles point
and clasp impetuous the hawthorn bush
for care not so the virtuous caught
as petulant to cause the bloods ignited rush
Such a useless thing called love
the demon of a feather sent afloat
artist of another happenstance in truth
tempered to the molten coin of a harlot
And tumescent in the trespasser of
panders to a daydreams lecherous thirst
but claims to burn the yearning of
and in mockery damns the broken heart to burst
Make threat to mountain with needles point
where so many as want the angels will dance upon
better for worse or dissonant
the parting shrift or parting gifts delusion
Beaten down to overburdened
exultation this poets cantankerous pen
or places in mythos such heady legend
a chocolate box of promises given
Still hammers bitter nails on libations grasp
treasured name so driven to agony
'till uttered with the final gasp
this ambrosia whispered into eternity
Freedom gained repentant of sightless prison
so open embraced surrendering kiss
as to quivering hand the lover seeks expression
and relinquishes all to hubris
Love be-damned to a useless thing called love
For what love wants is naught
neither in the service of soul
nor to spirits radiance brought
nor for love, is loves portent of, loves only goal
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