The Thing Of It; more verse from Lord David

The thing of it is
that we live in a world
beyond The World,
where esthetic & dreams call
our slow voluptuous dance.
Until some shining isle
of golden sun & velvet night
of azure & deep pearly green
steals us away like gypsies do
to learn the games & wonders
of it’s secret carnivals,
we must sneak down from
our impossible tower keep
to grind the lower machines
amongst plug-in characters,
dispensed with at birth
by the sum of future possessions,
hungry with the need of sensation,
like empty liquor bottles
tossed down by the gods
in some cruel drunken joke.
Here we are grotesquely
lapped & bitten & kissed
as if to numb the past & future.
Hold Beauty’s head high
& walk bold, my young love.
Swing it high by the hair,
fresh & bloody & spattering
the ground where you shall walk.
Blind the eyes of deceitful
merchants of the soul
with the delicious swing
of your fine hips,
a Warriors Blade hidden
behind your back,
in your left hand only
so that it will be close
& fast to jump & dance
to the flaming of your heart.
Like the Hashisheen, are we,
who wander down from Paradise
to briefly do your bidding in The World,
and return to our secret places.
We will always find our way back
to our slow voluptuous dance,
to esthetic & dreams,
& take no quarter
on the way.