Crouching by the Window

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  • Dark

    Poem Commentary

    Changed the last two lines August 10, 2010

    Crouching by the Window

    Dark and still in the middle of the night.
    In moonlit shadows a dark stranger hides. 
    Outside my window he crouches and waits.
    Feelings of evil gnaw at my insides.

    I know he’s there.  He thinks he’s concealed.
    He patiently takes his time to appear.  
    This stranger awaits for the right moment.
    Patiently for drought of life so severe.

    Open the Window he kindly requests.
    “Let me in for we all know your sins”
    “Will I go to hell if I give into you?”
    This evil fellow just smirks he then grins.

    He knows of all my selfish desires.
    All the wares he offers can I resist?
    Shows me all about carnal knowledge.
    Displays beautiful women never I kissed.

    Not only lust, but drugs and money.
    He offers me the world if I agree
    To follow him from which he came.
    He lays it all out before me sinfully.

    My eyes open wide to lustiness
    Selfishness, cruelty, and pride.
    It all looks so good in an evil way.
    I stand naked before him nothing to hide.

    Be damned all the Have Nots,  idealists,
    The church going do gooders too.
    Why shouldn’t I get what I want?
    Is making love to your cousin taboo?

    This dude in the black leather jacket
    Says anything I want I can get.
    Morals are not the absolute truth.
    He says, at the end I’ll have no regret.

    Opened the window, I let it all in.
    Don’t I deserve to have my fling?
    This was the path I wanted to take.
    To Hell with what tomorrow will bring.

    Tomorrow has come quicker than thought
    Up to the bar to pay what’s past due.
    Denied some sweet nectar, one last sip.
    Anybody would have done the same, would you?

    Blazing inferno, demoness torture
    My eternity of agony and pain
    Some night I'll be outside your window.
    Will you let me in giving Satan his reign?

    Poem Comments

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    MarionYost commented on Crouching by the Window

    05-14-2010

    This ones good I don't know how I keep missing these, I think I've read them all, But after sifting through.... Nice Moot. all the best -Marion-

    MootPoint

    05/14/2010

    You're sweet. This was from the creepyest dream I have ever had. I woke up yelling at the demon. The dream was over 20 years ago and I still remember it. Thank you Marion.

    danmartyjake1 commented on Crouching by the Window

    03-02-2010

    Def Dark and mysterious, just enough left out to make you wonder even more how far it goes. Curiosity is brimming in this one. Great Write!

    MootPoint

    03/02/2010

    This is another one that came to me in a nightmare. I dreamed I was looking out my window and their was a silent man crouching in the bushes, not saying anything. I woke up yelling at him. I made him into a demon from hell in my poem.

    BadBadBear commented on Crouching by the Window

    09-30-2009

    With friends like this or should i say hypothetical friends like this who needs more friends. Be ye a follower and/or a leader. Everyone has to take a path. Good write.

    bigguy commented on Crouching by the Window

    09-27-2009

    Not my kind of story, if you have read my work, but it works. Yes, it is dark as you say but leaves to much to the imagination. A little more detail is need in dark poems. The darker the more explicite it needs to be. Good start though. I'll give it an 8 and let the devil take his bite. What do I know?? Papa

    devaamido commented on Crouching by the Window

    09-23-2009

    This is a very challenging writing that is easier understood after reading the poet's other works first. This poem is one of the least well crafted by this poet, but it is the most self-revealing of this poet's posted works. Its message is that in the commission of any socially taboo act the "hit" or "thrill" experienced when performing the act is simultaneously the same as the punishment for committing the act, and both are, in turn the same as the act in itself. Specifically, the voyeur who revels in watching carnal acts obtains the pleasure of watching them, but is punished by never being fully satisfied by committing them, and Satan presumably condemns the poem's protagonist to this fate for all eternity.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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