Psyche's Chestnut Halides

[sVentos cruSh]

"Goddess of Love, your aim is off!
Can't compassion replace that scoff?!"

Old wings lie dead in satin greed.
Thus love from you's a prize indeed!

To see you in the dark, my dear
makes crimson's pulsing pound with cheer
while saddled to my chest, right here
is Cupid's quivered arrow-spears.

Though gone is Cupid's bow, no fear
it lies en-trenched in *Venus* tears.
Without it arrows should be thrust
by hand into the flesh, they must.

I don't know if I have the right
though prick you anyways, I might!
My trembling fingers catch dim light
impassioned by your very sight.

Much adds to this young stalker's plight
cause beauty best shines in the night.
To see you under moonlight glow
makes sneaking stealthy easy, though

should not decide for you, I know.
(And only Cupid fed the bow!)
You needn't arrows to win souls
from you a look would slay the bold!

Your chestnut eyes reacting, stare......
They do not know the force they bear!
Like metal halides: plants they grow
with naught a flimsy internode!

Since ever first a seedling's sprout
stems spawning leaves must know their route!
Bright warmth envelops breeding greens.
No moderation. Not this weed!

When water's sucked, and soil's dry
I will crave halides till I die!
For nourishment fried stems reach high
not needing any azure sky!

Good plants crave NPK-Ca
imbalance 'tween those forces may
Yield basic or acidic pot.
So lacking either makes them rot!

And timid is the one who smokes
harvested gifts--they often choke!
Those eyes of yours, much like this drug
Imprison any average thug.

I have not what it takes to lie
or break your will, make you confide
or make-believe your hand's aren't bound.
You'd love me back, like any hound!

Though tempting as that life may be,
'tis not true love when geared towards me.
(No Matter what the common creed
In Mount Olympus Cell Block Three!)

Like feeding plants or bows, you see?
Good love's fed balanced: he and she



© Brady P. Passant
February 2005