How do you hold onto
a soul
especially when
it wants to roam…
not aimlessly
through the planes
but to a new place
it can call home?
Experience tells me
absence makes my
heart grow fonder…
but you have never
graced my space!
So, why does absence
of your words
make my soul
yearn to be yonder?

I have nothing …
with which to entice.
Nothing to offer,
not even advice,
but I seek understanding
of this path that I walk,
and the snare that I built
to capture your heart.

Why must my spirit
clench its fists
to hold the tails
of my soul
and keep it
trapped within my breast?
Why do your words
so enthrall my soul,
and for a brief
time …
The soul flails not
against this machine …
and the heart pumps blindly on?
Why would spiritual death
yield not
surcease from this pain
but instead, enhance
living woe, a self constructed
hell?
Soulmates … kindred spirits …
Oh what a play on words,
as if two souls could breed
and create another.
If we are …
then the mating game
is devoid;
naught but pretty words
are our offspring!

Part II

Dread for the morrow
now
as I think of you.
Tender caring falls
by the wayside
and animal aggression
begins ….
Animal, because it
knows not any mind
neither knows love,
nor care.
Only a lust to
acquire,
and take for its own.
As if physical action
could seal this bond…
between heart and soul,
and make a friend
mine for life,
as more than friends….
But the actions of the
animal …
are for pleasure,
mating,
not for ever!
Damn the animal
Damn the man!
Damn words!
Damn emotions!
Creations should’ve
been left
dead!

Part III

Flail! Flail!
Flail against the machine,
this pretty death machine.
Go ahead …
Beat against its
façade,
with fists soon turned
to bloody pulps,
and white cracked bone
that shows plainly through
dripping tattered flesh!
Kick at it! And watch
as it rolls blindly, unheedingly on!
Crushing your legs,
and stamping out life
but not love!
A non-existent entity…
but with human body parts
and great intelligence
but no soul,
for it has flown
away,
and resides now with
its kindred.

Spirit fingers,
groping blindly,
muscles quiver from loss …
tendons snapped,
knuckles crushed, muscles
unceasingly clench.…
Yet a defeated cage!
That could not hold
a soul that yearned,
and could not keep it
from going home!

And though the words
flow from my pen
like water from a broken
DAMN!
and scroll onto the page
with such alacrity,
their thoughts are for
naught….
The aggressive animal
knows no mind
and has no soul
to be soothed
by the gentle words
that do not fall
and are unexpected.

Part IV

No! Flail not!
Flail not against this
machine.
For you are one with it,
and the flailing,
useless flailing gives way
to rage!
A burning rage
that consumes
body, mind, and spirit,
but not soul!
For it lives not here
anymore!
No! Flail not!
But run with it.
Walk at its side
and redirect its blind
rumbling rampage!
Direct it unto
that place where the soul
now lives!
The place of thunderous
peace!
Placed within another’s
heart, … where the beating
strong and weakened
soothes and comforts
its kin!
Hold on tight
to the non-understanding.
Two souls grasping …
rejoined at last.

Mind or body, spirit and soul
God bless this trinity!
But cursed is this entity…
when the soul leaves for home,
and mind and spirit
are left,
eversearching for
completion,
yearns for death …,
and when it finds it not,
becomes a machine
defying life!

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I also welcome any comments.