I love Woman

I love woman, it is her work that I love,
Her hands always toiling, her mind
dwelling just above and to the left.
The fruit turn color and ripen,
even as they sway and dangle.

Can you see her bent over in her garden?
I adore woman, no weed is left unconquered,
and her children will surely rise up
out of the ground and call her blessed,
her fingers full of dirt and moist earth.

Delicious shadows, even without my eyes
I see her sliding and moving.
She is fluid, and I drink woman in.
I take up the goblet like a drunkard,
my fingers full of hair and skin and mystery.

Shall we pour out this time upon the ground?
Will I hear your words AND their meaning?
My roots and tendrils are exposed. Safe.
I love person, person is extravagant, complete
I am fascinated and married to her.

Confession

What am I doing here, you ask?
I've got no place left to go.

You want a confession?
Wrap your goulash around this.

I'm a murderer. I've pointed a revolver at another man's chin, cocked back the hammer, and pulled that heavy trigger until the hammer swung down and smashed into the blasting cap. I watched his face explode in slow motion, and I marveled at the lovely pattern his brains made on the powder blue wall behind him. He's still alive, but I'm a murderer all the same.

You want more?
Pull down your sequin sunglasses and take a gander at this.

I'm an adulterer. I've been in bed with hundreds of of different women in my life. I used her body, but she never saw mine. I degraded and humiliated her, and to top it all off these lovely ladies never knew my name or saw my face.

Are you sick of it yet?

I've cheated, lied, stolen, broken, beaten, coveted, slandered... I think you're starting to get the picture.

Why am I here on the bloody ground in front of this ancient torture device? I've got no other place left to go.