from the series “The Empath Dies in the End”
1 John Drudge
I like to ride The thin wave Between hope And despair Between the rolls Of a fading surge And the bright lights Of eternity Wrestling with angels In the aftermath of faith Falling in And out of love With endless wonder 2 (David L O'Nan) I like to sit and paint obscure trees and I wonder why the rabid and the heartbeat meet. I wonder why we feel jaded when our blood beats. And I wonder what is Sex, really? Is sex a secret, or is the heavenly plague, Is sex the magic, created from the voodoo wind Is it all biblical, are all just magical? Are we the creations of a night of love, are we the creations of a selfish game? Are we awful, are we royalty, Does the music play, when our filth becomes the silk? The makeshift subtlety, or a full blown wrath, What is sex when your mind is unarmed? There is a trouble in the hallowed walls. They listen in to hear us scream or call, or maybe we may just pretend a whimper, Are we the acoustic or the bass, the electric fire or the aching moan of the cello? Are we frightened, are we given a choice? When boys attack the girls, and the girls attack the boys? When all they wanted was to paint a few obscure trees? What is sex, a natural state or the first disease? The time is ticking, with a draconian yell. will there be freedom, as we run naked through the vines? The moldy fruit is shaking from the trees, and there's a formation of primitive life kicking around. habitual, self-absorbed, was there love, was it abortive or what is sex after all? A deadpan coward looks on. And the sweat swallows down in our breath, as we mold ourselves into an impressionistic painting. of some obscure trees, the nude bodies by the river watching the thunder turn the clouds from hurricane to a fainting wind. What is sex? When the wheels are judging. Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. A Poetry Showcase by John Drudge
Fevers of the Mind 