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In Bed

                                      In Bed

                The central nervous heating system
pumping the womb
					floating free
				in seminal fluid
        sucking on the umblical chord

Curled in the bed 
          		in the Reichian curlicue	                     
          between clean silk sheets   
in the cosy cage
	away from the cold and the sleet’s scorching bone beat
             tumbling only when the flushing revolving door pulsates
         the thunder knocking to come crashing in
    the blood in the mother stream choking in the throttled rush

Who wants to be out
                                in the rain  in the shine 
      worrying about work  about degrees
                         no work   lack of opportunity
    of hurts through  making love
                         warding off pain  shame  and the retributing conscience
        of justifying every action   every little game
    of the mind  
              from our own standpoint
                                                                     by running everybody down
       even those who stand up for us
                                                         brother sister mother father
    backbiting in the sweating bed
                                                      in the haven   imagining triumphs glories rosy utopias
  
Who hates not some one                        
                                                          hates himself
       hates some  body  if not his maker
 at the thought of his plight
					    out the safe mother  oven	
        harrowing hate turning the dynamo of pretence
hypocrisy   basking in blind bigotted bile
         		hate stoking the intense rocket-thrust furnace
   consuming the guts
				   till
   everybody hates everybody
			the most intense force hidden in the pleats of the neuronal strata
		hates the entire world    all humanity
     the strongest human force generated by man		 
 
Who would want to be out
           before time
before we’re called upon to mind others we have put out
   of the womb 
        of the world
             of the safety of the dream bubble bed             
unless   if you call   we can say
                                                    go away   i’m in bed
   or hold on   just a sec
                                     come to bed   
                                                                        bed with me till the morrows never end
               or something like that
                                         and keep the terror of the slinging mind from plunging through the cul    
           de sac

        for yet a while longer                          


April 26, 1997 – Paris
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 1997 ; revised from the cvollection : longhand notes (1999)

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Date: 5/2/2016 1:55:00 PM
This is awesome... Thank you so much for this wonderful share
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Wignesan Avatar
T Wignesan
Date: 5/3/2016 3:52:00 AM
Sorry, the reason I gave was only in part true. Wignesan
Wignesan Avatar
T Wignesan
Date: 5/3/2016 3:23:00 AM
A warm morning's wishes to you, Funom! Hope things are heating up for you, too, over there - wherever you are! Very many thanks for the visit and comment. Do really appreciate it, though my own guilt feelings for not reciprocating or returning the kindness is simply due to my lack of free time for anything but my own daily survival chores. Every good wish. Wignesan

Book: Reflection on the Important Things