“Man In Woman” Image by kenne
Existing In Absurdity
Born linked to the ancient ones
Channeled to a past spirit
Licking insight of the now
Instinctively being observant
Creating a discrete perception
Accepting things as they are
Not to question why
In a world of the ordinary
While seeking answers
Only to redefine normality
Follower of mother’s guidance
Learning right from wrong
In an air of tolerance
Avoiding strange charmers
Delivers of woe and fear
Fostering a mama’s boy
Not by design, but by nature
Existing forever connected
To her very being
Desiring to mend her hurt
Nurtured in grandmother’s church
Hearing a calling without voices
Imparting salvation
Becoming blinded by faith
Only to be baptized in a tank
Receiving life’s real baptism
In the old swimming hole
Swinging from a rope
Sinking down with an arm
Pointing up to the light above
A curiosity of girls
Given timid tutelage
Knowing only of
Their exclusive nature
Without objective scrutiny
Lacking any evidence
Querying a gentle lass
Show me yours
Will show you mine
Not yet understanding
The growth in the hand
Lying down by her side
Lost in original sin
Not resisting the call
Buried deep in the heart
Falling for her desire
Thinking of girl as woman
Wondering at what age
A woman becomes woman
And when woman
Stops being woman
Fancied by little girls
Fashioned by big girls
Becoming powerful as consort
Only to be lost in false piety
A spectacle of elevated humbug
The girl as woman
A myth dreamed by boys
Loving the art of deception
Conceived by man loving woman
Only to become an ploy
Now questing a cure
For this curse of eve
Loathing the deception
In quest of a solution
Only to be lost in dark air
Searching a way out
Of this affliction
Can’t live with
Can’t live without
Existing in absurdity
kenne
Kenne 2 thumbs up my man, awesome work!
It’s the best one I’ve read of yours. Not dark, it really catches the phases and humor (think broadly) of how we are whipsawed by both cerebral and hormonal…I think you have a winner. I am referring you to my sister-in-law who is writing poetry in a journal.
. . . maybe it’s because we tend to think a like. Thanks.