Foxes cachinnate
Into the infant day
Her dreams are circumfused
Into milk way
She catches a glimpse of a sunbeam tardigrade
He grieves for his youth misspent in a xenodochium
In adulthood, he became a connoisseur in supernaculum
A modern day Rimbaud, for him debauchery has no boundaries
Bounded is his heart to no fair lass or milky maiden.
He is well versed in poetic inferno and immaculate vice
Commits sins of all kinds thrice
Yet she falls for him, the fair maiden pure
For this Coeur de Pirate, there is no cure
She strokes his naked body
He won’t flinch.
The sun is hot now, yet his heart is cool.
This love story is desultory
She must leave her gamin- Rimbaud
But she is afraid, she would fall for a Daud.
Her fingers are moist now.
His flesh inviting and taut.
Inner child, forever confused?
Puzzled by alcohol misused.
His angry dad when so infused,
Did with hand, belt and bat abused.
Inner child, cruelly accused,
With arms and hips then deeply bruised.
His ‘self’ reduced and made diffused,
Mental pain left talents unused.
Inner child, who was once enthused,
Broken by violence, excused.
Mind distorted by truth refused,
Shrouded by lies mum circumfused.
Inner child is with hope transfused
And, by sound help, self-love infused.
Where visceral doubt, once oozed,
This inner child now disabused.
(Disabuse: To persuade someone that a belief is mistaken)
Dedicated to the Rev. Antony Barraclough, whose spiritual guidance and humanity, enabled me to find hope and peace among the living.