two faces of the poet :D

Well i have been doing econs and i really do need a break from all that numbers and figures along with graphs that torment the living daylights out of me. Right on ... there are things that trouble my heart at the moment, loosing sleep and loosing my sanity, I have been living a dual life, one portraying the real self, the other, a denial of it all ... This perpetual struggle in my mind has me betwixt! And it is haunting me, day night, when i see the person, when i don't, it is all very tormenting. My body has lost its will to carry on with whatever i am supposed to do, and has left me with only one escape: Poetry. Poetry has been my escape and probably will remain my escape for many years to come. the verses tell my story, how i have lived and what i feel even though it may not make much sense to you but this is my puzzle this is my dungeon and my maze for the reader to guess what i feel and the cause of it all is within the Poem. According to Sigmund Freud, He said that what we do is from our subconscious. So guess where does all the poems come from, ya you guessed it :my subconscious! so what i think of and who i am right now at this point of time is portrayed in this poem. it is called: two faced.

advise read the poem out loud and listen to the punctuation's. 

Two Faced ...by Karmen Simone. 

Sex bores me the in and out pistoning motion and then 

the emotional release.

The pleasure of course could be described 

in words.

Absolutely divine those who have tasted 

of the fruit. 

where the two are joined at the 

root to muster out of them another life.

Totally uninteresting ! 

lasting only three minutes or if I am lucky five

this boy is unable to keep himself.

With no skill, no tenderness to a woman's pent up passion.

So i sit there daily as they strip and 

I am annoyed as they savagely attack me 

with their mouth and their tentacles.

And then finally that meeting of the two hairy thighs.

The phallus : power and authority.

All symbolic references sheathed up in me.

kept in ME !

The sword without its sheath is dangerous

vulgar and common.

Yet he uses his instrument for barely seconds 

before the honey begins to flow and the 

room is filled with that musky scent. The 

blending of the two liquids, mine and the beasts.

Absolute Bore ! As i now lie there 

unamused, unsatisfied and unquenched, by the fire 

of sexual union.

Rather what i desire, no what i lust for is a blend of the 

two

I am both, male and female I created them, a hermaphrodite. 

having both sheath and sword. 

like a knight of old heading for a crusade.

Possessing both and subduing both.

I will take with glory the man 

and the woman.

Bearing the forbidden fruit.

Of course having the parts of both man and 

woman, desire pent up 

pent up to gain authority and rule with both. 

I will entice the two sexes and 

devour them. Eat and consume them into 

a feast a banquet of love.

Let them see my glory 

and embellish it before them, look and not touch 

they cannot touch my glorious body, given of the gods.

A monstrosity and yet self pleasuring and self

stimulating, up down in out, the motion of satisfying both 

no manual for that. 

Into a red esctacy and being absorbed into 

it all as they look upon me. As wave after 

wave 

hits me into unconsciousness.

Missing sense loss of logic and galavanted into 

ritual motion, faster and faster. 

No, no, one, is, not, enough. 

again and again.

The glory of my meeting, the thighs weaken and my

face, No their faces blush as they continue 

staring on, God, god, falling there 

i reach there, diving, more , more , no, 

faster, one more, god! ahhhhh                      (twitching)  

Reaching the place of ecstacy and delight 

pleasure zings through my body. 

As it lays there, no one around. 

And beside me, the child still sleeps,

the wet of my thigh seeping down to 

my feet, the root of me, a brazen fire

able to melt gold, melt flesh.

Alive yet the body refuses anymore          (child awakes)

I tower over him and press him down into the bed 

as i withdrawing my sheath and take him

a sword and kill, that part of him.

plundering his treasure, and now it is his turn to cry out. 

Breaking him no more will, he takes me and i am not his 

He is mine .

as he trembles beneath my raw hands 

and cries out to the gods for help, 

But to no avail. 

She is His God, His daemon.

His only need and satisfied by you Alone. 

Waltzing to My tune.  

Like i said this is extremely complicated and takes time for dissection...so take your time and dont rush it, Oh my advise ... read the poem out loud.