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Making love with art, religion, philosophy, putting passion in all the proper places of the earth...

i made love to books
kissed each page
hugged each chapter like
no other
licked all its covers
slept with it for years

and i made love to
a career
all years showered without spare
my hours are dissertations
all days marked with treatises
all hours danced with
possibilities about a new realm
of academic stairs

i wore caps, those black ones
i was obsessed with black robes
tickling life
with probes

murdering the birth of lofty desires
my life is miserable
without the passion with you

your body i have drawn in canvass
and i throw away all paints
and Chinese brushes burned

your gaze i sculpted on a tree
and the tree was cut
turned into firewood
ashed...

passion is still there wiggling
like blood in the veins of my arms
pulsating like a breathing salamander
on the ceiling

the room breathes at me
the bed creaks
because i am lying about myself
and suppressed what should have been more

passionate on the grass
and the shores of the white sandy beaches
somewhere in my dreams
the wildest ones

but i learned a lot of wisdom then
got an A+ on restraint
cooling down
like winter ice like beautiful crystals
on my palm

and i learned where to put passion
somewhere
where i can be perfect again like
the gods of the witty wind

i made love to books
ejaculated on each page
licked each hard page

and i have learned to live
my life
like a gentleman in the room
where faces of men
are straight like Gibraltar pillars

their arms made of marble
their minds
solid as steel and i do not stop
to put where passion must be put
in the proper places of this earth

i made love to mountains
kissed the fog
and licked each cloud
slept on cliffs and
got high
on the wings of the birds of my
youth and
imagination

i am entangled on the white thighs
of poetry

my soul my body my hands
made captive
all century....

and i made love with freedom
penetrated love,
ate passion
chewed religion
and i made love with art and i made love
with philosophy

and now, everyone loves me
or at least that is what
i think to be....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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