Enthused By Tough Graft
her life had been a rollercoaster of moody upheaval
manic fervor from sheer in-exhaustible passion
laced with invincible disinhibition and thrust
indigo fortunes painted on orange canvas
free flowing script of subconscious pull
until all interest fainted succumbed to gloomy defeat
lack of purpose meaningless rationale and sorrow
infused by stagnant apathy in failed motion
black water colours on anthracite screens
blank words staring onto empty pages
adorned with multiple voices she had ruled her world
with no limits sky high on endorphins and zeal
she had swung from crystalline chandeliers
swirled on the ceiling like a mad dervish
nauseous on joy she took one more spin
out of control and inside her shell she now cowered
under a duvet incapable to feel the soft feathers
lay morose without comfort naked and torn
finger on trigger and fondling the noose
unable to balance two halves of emotion
the straightjacket hurt and she was the warden
of contempt incriminations guilt and shame
longed for the pain to recede from her mind
forsaken and forgotten in stupor and void
apathetic and a pathetic wreck on the rocks
the clock ticked and tortured her moments’ toll
time for a comeback but no hands on the dial
invisible twists turning on ultimate resources
soporific disharmony one step at a time
until she found kindness and self-love
as strange as it sounded she took off the dark veil
disregarded objections that enthusiasm was for free
objected to the myth of automatic gusto and ardour
reasons and feelings required diligent challenge
agreed that vivacity was not a god given right
at first anthracite oozed from her tarnished brush
nibs penned epitaphs mixed with oozing obituaries
she could not decipher her own hand writing
and smudged acrylic and aquarelle blotches
to the tune of fierce and deluded disdain
but she accepted the sentence of hard labour
claimed the verdict of punishing inquisition
tattooed the promise onto sad wrinkled skin
regathered excitement until she believed it
found new explication by trial and error
exuberance was slow as shadows loomed large
no swift virginal birth but dried blood on her hands
clawed nails but no cross yet she paced her escape
‘these are my roots and wings grafted with toil’
‘I’m proud and finally enthused by free will’
18th June 2020
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2020
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