Cringe

I have blogged about poetry today over at the The Heroine Addicts. In it I foolishly present another challenge and as I never posted the result of the last one on Frenchman's Creek (turned out to be too painful for posting) I feel I can't shirk out of this one...however the problem is that I haven't written poetry in a very long time. Poetry was the medium of my tormented youth...it was way to express what I couldn't utter in any other form...it was navel gazing for me that is...

But as I haven't written any in at least two decades I have no choice, but to inflict on you a work from that angst riddled time...warning - weak of stomach read no further - normal service will resume shortly.....

The Orient expressed
By others
others explaining others
the orient repressed
knowledge incomplete
Not in but out
Out looking in
looking not being
Others can't be others
Others can barely be themselves
They know only others
What others are to them
Defines what they themselves are
they think
The Orient expressed
Expressing others as not them

2/12/84

And if that last one wasn't cringe making enough...

unfinished time
muses speak
language incomprehensible
Apollo plays a lute unheard
bodies decay uncaressed
moulding in their lust
catacombs filled with forbidden thoughts
Calvary stares at earth with living crosses
4/85

Anonymous is a Woman

Anonymous is a woman
Her beauty grows that way
Sweetly unsung she rise
To each break of day

Anonymous is a woman
Her beauty is rarely seen
The clouds on the horizon
Makes the world's 'clear' vision a distorted dream

Anonymous is a woman
Her beauty always forgotten
Among the numerous weeds
Where true brilliance is lost among the rotten
10/10/84

And with that I will go and douse myself in cold water and leave writing poetry back where it belongs in my university years...back to the mundane clean up of A Cornish House....