Long Obsessive Poems
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MY OBSESSION
My prime confession is frantic obsession on You,
My Dearest.
Your enchanting charisma spreading romantic aroma.
Though in dilemma, I wish to be your closest
I am always alert, to keep you in core of my heart
being helmed, mesmerized, hypnotized
exotic, possessive, obsessive.
Let me make it clear.
Floating on muse, I get amused, too confused
I drink desires from full glass of amour
With ardent ardor, I admire, adore
sinking in violent vortex of whirling dream,
surrendering myself to your strong attraction
Oblivious obsession, uncontrolled yearnings,
irresistible sensation
Unidirectional emerald emotion,
Pearly piercing passion.
Blind love neither to be judged nor to be explained.
Me truly obsessed, admit myself as ‘Blessed’
to relish my pleasure and bliss.
My obsession of love, I analyze and observe,
I preserve as peerless precious treasure.
03/31/21
Second Place.
' Obsession Contest by Regina McIntosh
Third Place
'Your Best Verse this Year' Contest by John Hamilton
'A Brian Strand July 12'
Contest by Brian Strand
The Story of Her Intensity
Intensity is what drove him away
Intense were her demands and great her need
Obsessive love a price he could not pay
And so he left- his heart and soul now freed
He tasted of a carefree reckless lust
No strings attached, just pleasure every day
No one to whom he had to bind his trust
His days were filled with dreams and nights with play
At times he thought of her and of her pain
She loved him with intense idolatry
But on his conscience she was just a stain
A proof that life was just hypocrisy
One night when all alone he lay in bed
He felt a longing for her warm embrace
The vision of her body filled his head
Intensity of passion on her face
The years had passed and now he sought her love
He stood outside the bedroom of her heart
He hoped to find the wisdom from above
Believing she would grant a brand new start
But through the window came the muffled sound
Of moans of ecstasy he’d heard before
The world turned black, for he was losing ground
Intense the plea he heard, “Oh…give me more!”
The sound of her fulfillment reached his ear
Along with breathless gasps of lover’s voice
He turned away to face a life now drear
For her “intensity” left him with no choice
Jade
We are not back to school yet, but
I am ready.
Summer vacation lasts about three weeks too long for me.
Yesterday I looked at my school mail.
I do not normally look at it all summer.
I am ready to go back.
One hundred per cent ready.
We have ten mandatory online refresher tests
Which we have until October 31st to take.
One hundred and four days.
I was delighted to see the test-taking link in my mail.
If I take one a day, I reasoned, I could get all ten
Finished before we go back to school.
My really-knows-myself-well side began to laugh.
Tears ran down our face.
We both know if I start them, I will not finish
Until all ten are complete.
That was six hours ago. I am at 50% complete.
My playful side is arguing we can finish tomorrow.
But I am ready to go back to school.
One hundred percent ready.
It is midnight now, and I have finished all ten of the tests.
Because my obsessive compulsive get-it-finished-now side
Has held me hostage all day,
Stiff neck and all.
I am ready to return to school.
These vacations are too long.
Everyone’s getting covid. It’s become serious.
And pretty much everyone here is triple vaxxed.
1 in 17 at Yale have it now. One of my roommates got it.
I’m hoping I get it - if I get it - before finals.
‘cause I doubt Yale professors would give extensions.
“You’re dying? Did you not read the syllabus? NO extensions”
“What were you like as a kid?“ He asked.
Umm, “naïve..,” “boyish.. obsessive.” I answered, thoughtfully.
And how would you describe yourself now? He follows-up.
Umm, “less naïve..” “boyish.. obsessive.,” we laughed.
2006: Taylor Swift releases her first album. I was three years old.
I grew up with her - every breakup, every turns-out-gay boyfriend.
She’s brilliant - don’t get me wrong - no doubt in the universe,
but she’s not the underdog any more - not an outsider - she’s FAB rich,
royalty, no, better than royalty. And she has the Taylor army.
Why is she always threatening physical violence?
Taylor is gay and straight, she’s republican, rageful, erotic and complex.
And I want to believe she actually ran someone down aka a Gatsby
She’s the Alexander Pope of our generation.
I’m just questioning the Taylor Swift breakup-industrial-complex.
Is Pete Davidson hot? I can’t decide.
He looks sort of gangly and awkward.
He’s dating Kim Kardashian.
I mean it’s not like Kanye is hot.
She’s obviously not looking for THAT.
No potato chips today. In the house. What about the store?
I do not need them at first. But in a little while I try to send someone.
Because I am in my fluffy zebra pajamas and my fluffy socks.
Not wanting them enough to get dressed.
Suddenly nothing in the world is as important as a chip in my mouth.
Could you?
No.
Would you?
No.
What would I have to do?
I try to not think of potato chips for six minutes.
I can taste the salt, and I hear the crunching sound I need.
I dig to the bottom of the bread basket and find one.
Gobble it quickly. It is stale unfortunately.
I tear open the kitchen cupboards and start clashing things around.
There must be a secret stash somewhere, or a couple that fell.
I am slamming cupboards a bit harder now, mad as hell.
I have to have those damned chips, and I do not want to dress.
Finally my husband who knows how obsessive I get,
And recognizes the danger signs, fearing for his life,
Gets dressed and runs to the dollar store to get me my chips.
Life will get easier now.
The self-obsessive free will seemingly unbound ever dormant,
envelopes my moribund mind with an unreal transient veil,
obscures the ordained pathway the absolute paves,
l need to faithfully follow, for I should at His will.
The unseen aura of the omnipresent awareness aurora,
permeates my possessed essence, I don’t perceive,
for I formulate the free-rule tenets taking the ego
to the domain of fantasized self-deception.
The blemish of base disdain discolors the face of conviction,
I traverse the gloomy ground of cardinal indulgence,
life is stifled by the corrupt clutch hidden within,
in remorse I feel the pernicious pangs of pain.
I travel unshackled out of the dark abyss of despair,
on inward journey with trust through consciousness layers,
comprehend then in the soul the radiance of ultimate beacon,
illumining the awareness corridor, leading to the abode of truth.
The ill-construed acuity of the errant mind,
discovers the devout path in the fold of faith.
That’s when the door of the inner sanctum opens,
where the lotus blooms suffused with the divine light.
The soul shines with sequins of astral radiance
in sacred space within with brilliance of billion suns.
In my self-searching dedicated odyssey to the eternity,
I discern the inner galaxy turning my faith into living light.
the moment- I saw my love it was a moment frozen
it was a spiritual experience and I was swept away
I abandoned myself to this perfect experience
with obsessive musings- like an addict needing a fix
it is more that his physical attractiveness
I am lost in a forever, ever love
being with him is like falling into a crystal clear stream
where his kisses and words wash over me like waves
I am an emotional wreck- who cannot sleep or eat
my heart beats faster when he is even just talking to me
when, we were apart, I am full of longing and lust
falling in love is very bizarre- it just creeps up magically
our life's are entwined and we are deeply bonded
coated with desire- I long for his touch on my body
the stroke of his hand on my hair, his breath
he is my lover, my friend and my forever, ever
we never crowd each other, we both have a life
but when we are together the world fades
he took a weeping girl- who was me and I healed
and holding me in his arms he whispers his- forever love
___________________________
February 24, 2020
Added After Judging 2/28/2020-
Poetry/Free Verse/On Love
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1229-055-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Free Verse On Love
sponsor, Lu Loo
Second Place
He grew up a fat kid
now a gym addict
can’t play sport though no good at it
thinks he’s worked hard while you had it natural
when really he’s doing what you did when at school
but it’s just the weights protein shakes
and muscle relaxers for him
not the competitive contact sport constantly injuring
it’s just losing fat and building muscle up
he's finished growing too so he's building pressure up
causing problems that see life took
in vain training to have a superficial look
getting big without cardiovascular
turning overweight fat to muscular
the poor heart and lungs straining
at a body to big to maintain
as they don’t really adapt to the new muscles he trains
a pressure on the respiratory system cannot remain
he's got the heart and lungs of a fat kid
building up muscle stack an obsessive habit
cus the foundation is layered during puberty
after which heart and lungs don't grow usually
so forcing the heart too far when as huge as he
fuelled by fat kid issues making it about how he appears
he has a jealousy if you were healthy in your younger years
and now he appears to be healthy
but the heart’s saying help me
it’ll hang on seemingly ok
but when it goes wrong,
that’s your life mate
have a nice day.
Being healthy starts young with the lungs and the heart
if you’re older these two the most important parts
build yourself up as strong as your heart is
or be someone too young to have since departed
A hoarse whisper, at 2.49 a.m.
"It's over-it's over- it's-"
There, he is,
in his dark bedroom,
eyes wide open, but seeing nothing.
Fists clenched with sheets, and nails sunk to the skin.
He mutters it, to the locked bedroom door,
as if it's someone who's listening
to his confession, sorrow.
2.50 it is.
A tear, dull and frozen,
falls from his left eye,
just to land on his shaking upper lip.
"It's over- it's over- it's-"
his hair, wet with sweat,
voice rasp with dread,
with a broken throat and a heart,
he mutters the same,
again and again,
in same pain,
same tone,
to the same silent wall.
His over bitten lip,
now glistening in red.
Iron and salt,
mixed in pain.
He feels it.
He cries, finally....
There, 2.55, sleep is crawling,
not a fitful one, shaking, he falls asleep.
3.00 a.m. it is.
DANG!-the alarm..
He wakes up, again.
Just to begin another day of hiding the suffering,
and suffering from hiding.
My mind hibernates in the void of cavernous complexity,
wakes up in the sensual seasons of mystique living.
The wild psyche forms a sleek and sly unique entity,
as with whisper of intent hiss, dances the reptilian feeling.
Within the deep cold layers many ancient secrets hide,
the sinuous slither of the silent senses can’t find.
Coiled in still shadows of the verdant world outside,
the echo of hostile footsteps is left to fade behind.
A prisoner under the disposable skin of own pedigree,
with an animated grace of fear in introvert isolation,
I see all the frightened faces flee from me,
as I trace my tortuous path in the web of ardent adulation.
In self-adoration, as a symbol of style steeped in serenity,
I see in me a serpentine Narcissus lonely lurk.
Metamorphosed stealthily from an obsessive entity,
it holds the threads of life, waits insulated in the dark.