The Rush
Oh how I miss it the rush the roar
Feeling with one more push yet I could soar
I felt it in many ways and at many times
That a moment in the future would be perfect rhyme
There were three types 'pon which I could expound
Three times of moment, of philosophy profound
One is the When, when the air was to shriek
When speed built so great and heart craved final leap
Another was blood, of fist and of flesh
Springing from deep rage, of fury tempest
The last was surprising, in dichotomy, appearance
That love could climax, make di-saster imminent
For the first I paid money, and thought it unjust
Bought as it was with a temp'ry, pointless rush
The second brought pain, and a glimpse of myself
Troglodyte 'neath skin, released but now shelfed
The third was a shock, which for long I did hunger
And when was found surprised, pulled in with soft succor
There it held me with its sweet soft embrace
A constant taken granted, of satin and lace
Yet from which did I learn, do I agonize
As I move on through life, constant analyze
Maybe the first, for I saw foolish youth
And see my impulses, for all they - uncouth
Possibly the second, as it showed me the power
Of the demon which inside each of us does glower
Of most moment is third, that constantly beckons
It consumes all man's mind, makes constantly reckon
Yes, for now I do contemplate
And ponder my fate
As I career and seek sate
In my painter's laminate
My longed-for mate
Is yet to amaze
I thought I had made
But she left, at last spate
Now I imagine one other of late
But she is born either of love or of hate
I know not now which, for it is a race
To see which blooms first, my love or my hate
Two battle for soul, one light and one dark
They both see me true, but one must depart
The one who loves without reason or guile or mark
Must decide whether I can be light or my current dark
The one who does not try, yet holds me awry
Must one day she straighten, decide love or lie...
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