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    Poor Poet, Sad Muse
    Poor Poet, Sad Muse
    Poor Poet, Sad Muse
    Ebook186 pages1 hour

    Poor Poet, Sad Muse

    By Botch Retsil and Bob Lister

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    About this ebook

    These are the poetical compositions of Botch Retsil. Artless pursuits lead to misgiving and regret. Is persistence in Love's name justified? A guide to broken hearts.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRobert Lister
    Release dateNov 26, 2017
    ISBN9781386559320
    Poor Poet, Sad Muse
    Author

    Botch Retsil

    Botch Retsil born 1978 died 2002 American  

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      Book preview

      Poor Poet, Sad Muse - Botch Retsil

      Pervert

      I'm a fool, yes

      -but worse for all that

      I'm a passionate fool; a lusty fool.

      I yearn for all the pleasures of the flesh

      all the thrills of holding beauty

      all the thrills of being held by beauty

      all the more desirable, yes

      to play daringly in beauty's flaming glory;

      I stir at the hope of handling

      that break upon which the imperfect borders

      that which exists where there is no existence

      that impenetrable point 'yond

      which is eternity's end;

      as if danger-herself were the object at hand

      as if danger-herself could be kissed then abandoned

      as if frightened lips bent on harm's face,

      uncertain of ever another sweet breath,

      trembled and clutched

      gripped in wild delirium of thirst, oh yes! what lips!

      pushing hard at a sip of some fire thickened syrup

      to feel juicy life separate their pulsing flesh

      as if beauty were a strong drink of liquid smoke

      taken from a cup of flames

      more satisfying because she is danger-herself

      and again, suddenly, there she is!

      I make my passes.

      How I ache to call her to my face,

      yet there is silence about my secret-blackened tongue

      for the sake of that first love most modest

      her name has been burned from my throat

      and I cannot speak of my taste for a crotch

      full of beauty's terrible fire

      as if danger-herself became an anguish unbearable

      that this time she should be as dry death in my mouth

      that this time my love would be lost to her flame

      that this time I cringe at the pang of desire.

      ‘Chelle

      You coax the wind to lift your hair

      to gently weave the crowns

      that Sister Wind would have you wear

      You laugh

      the locks tumble down

      Upon your skin the sun may stare

      to better see the hue

      and shadow canvas cannot bare

      You blush

      a cloud hides Sol's rue

      Shall I approach thee, maiden fair?

      to boldly lead the dance

      that I may match your charm so rare

      curtsey

      I stand alone, entranced

      When God creates His vessel of grace

      His intention 'comes quite clear

      for love to animate your face

      You yield

      His object most dear

      Dearest Devotion

      This morning I watched you awaken

      and as first light caressed your eyes

      I thought to speak of your beauty

      without miss, delusion or lie

      and I prayed that

      Neither the narrow filters of fashion (1)

      Nor the wrapping of wires around words (2)

      Would still your spirit's penchant (3)

      to precede even the morning sun-

      -and yes, you are most beautiful!

      (1) WHICH EMBELLISH the female physique in stale statements

      and indelicately distort true character

      (2) which charge the demagogic image

      and burn a figure corporally removed 

      (3) for naked energy which cannot be held or diffused

      The Heavenly Blue

      There are lovely lights that shine

      fill the heart yet never fret the eye

      beaming brilliant endless ray

      touch the center, bend and lead a way

      A lantern swinging from a rope

      swung above us by the hand of hope

      sparks cherished memory of the dead

      promise flames to raise a sleepy head

      (CHORUS):

      Bright and warm as the summer sun

      that soft pink cream that wraps a summer dawn

      so near to seem as if the only one

      that fairest friend who makes the summer fun

      As the twinklings gently wane

      long pressing happiness flash smiles again

      how great a blackness lets us be

      light little spirits flying wild and free

      When you put your lips to mine

      Darling, recreate the word, divine

      blessed hemisphere of blue

      shown me just because I'm loving you

      (CHORUS)

      Should a soul come to an end

      would that I surrender to a

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