The Conqueror

4 Comments

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  • Life

    The Conqueror

    Limbs tangeling

    Sweat staining the sheets

    Panting onto the climax

    Then only the distant noise of streets

     

    The city rearranging itself

    Helicopter flying by

    His eyes wide open

    Leaving without a goodbye

     

    On with clothes

    Catch next train

    Wipe cold sweat off face

    Fix reptile brain

     

    Up and fleeing at 3 AM

    Another offbeat morning

    Cheap coffee in silence

    Lifesaving don’t walk warning

     

    Soft cautious kisses on a designer couch

    Flashbacks run amok

    Down the street still tasting the drinks

    Soft indie on IPod

     

    Rising sun and nonsense newspaper

    Women are so naïve

    Half awake contemplation

    Pathetic tricks up this fancy sleeve

     

    Lungs blackening

    Dare to take another breath?

    Cars screaming by a distant man

    Having no time for death

     

    Found himself a fast-food joint

    Renewed his energy

    Three additional people dozing off

    Mind teeming with lucid erotic imagery

     

    Opting to stay a bit

    The clock on the wall in his favor

    He’s got her number he’s got time

    But he don’t need a girlfriend savior

     

    Restless he walks out

    In no real need of rest

    Rubbing from his eyes

    A broken heart a leg a breast

     

    And through the day he stumbles

    Until it’s again time to be sharply dressed

    Put on a gentleman façade

    And make another glorious conquest

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    HarverTomsson commented on The Conqueror

    09-21-2010

    OK, the English may be running on empty, (or not), but the live metaphor gets rubbed in very well. Women, when interchangable, always leave their body parts irretrievably scattered. Great line.

    KtIrish commented on The Conqueror

    09-21-2010

    This one was unexpected. But I like the imagery. It flashes by in glimpes, still-life pictures. It's a thoughtful look behind the mask. Job well done, I say.

    rsalassi commented on The Conqueror

    09-15-2010

    While I do sincerely admire your usual lists of participial, gerund, and infinitive phrases, verbs do exist. And there are so many of them waiting eagerly, waiting quietly, waiting patiently for you to use one once in a while. What does your English (do they teach English in Denmark or Danish?) teacher say on the subject? Just curious. Good write.

    stigbohnolsen

    09/15/2010

    My english teacher was an idiot, and my danish teacher was over analytical. I am not particularly fond of school

    rsalassi

    09/15/2010

    Nor me, I fear. It's a shame the educational systems in so many countries fail their most gifted students (and I'm not talking about grades). Stig, if and when I get a little too schooly for you, let me know and I'll stop. I try to repress it, but the damn thing keeps escaping from the closet. I'm still laughing out loud (LOL?) at your observations of teachers (especially the "english" English teacher).

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

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