Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I willingly walked in every given thunderstorm
despite the predictions of gloom & doomed
destiny without a yellow slicker of protection
so I could taste the acid raindrops of breathing
that leach into cob-webbed pores, saturate
the latent neurotic dust that sits in the corner

the brother self that craves a killer sunrise
that's brighter than a baby's smile, I walked
across the desert without an umbrella shield
my eyes double-daring the sun to sear
the sleeping receptors that spark the initiative
to convince atrophied muscle to wake up, flex

sparks that get tree-trunked feet out of bed
onto the floor of living, sparks that ignite
the drapery of immobility, burn down the house
sparks, sparks that melt the morbid apathy
of adventure like a rock-hard popsicle ignored
on a July sidewalk, sparks, sparks that sting

over and over and over again, the hornets
of imagination, those reckless undulating abdomens
injecting neo-life into a Karloffian body, the only
antidote to paralyzed dreams and frozen accounts
sparks, sparks that light the spirit walkway, sparks
of wasp-like zest, sparks that burn my eager desire

the mad, wild animal sparks of cerebral intercourse
that bring life with every spastic, fevered, buzzing penetration

powerful poem told well.

thanx dadio, I guess all we can hope for when we are mired in the black lagoon, is that something will turn it all around.....I know I've waited at times for something to improve my mood.......guess we just need to have a little hope and be open to suggestions...wherever they may originate....