An Amorous Encounter in the Moonlit Gardens of Aestheticism

An Amorous Encounter in the Moonlit Gardens of Aestheticism        October 10, 2013

Mon chere Madamoiselle!
O’ resident muse of the
 Moonlit gardens of
 Our Heavenly Father!

How you have captivat’d
 Thy famish’d heart!

How I hold for thy
Bewilder’d senses only pity,

For I feel as if a lupus howling

Beneath your seductive
Nocturnal gaze!

Pourquoi, ma chère?
 Is it that we are meant to be?

To frolic amid His wildflowers,

To germinate with our
Engender’d byproducts

Life post our conjugal encounter:

A love betroth’d between 

Two souls wild in erotic passion

Immersed in a tryst west o' Eden?

Let it be, I say! For ’tis all well;

Our amorous collaboration
 Amid a flourishing sea rich
Of beds of roses, and as our
 Collective bloods boil, my flag
 Rais’d at full mast awaits,

And you imbued with warmth,

And the dam, like a peach,
 In between your fleshy trunks lift’d,

Cleansing my patriotic sorrows

As I penetrate my manly love projectile

Towards your heart‘s contentment.

Sing! Sing! My fair lady! Sing! 

And I shall accompany thee
With thy lyre provid’d me
Courtesy o' Aphrodite with a kiss!

We coexist in a spacious humidor,
A tryst comprising of no
Other characteristic but you
And myself at heart, and

Our hearts a-fire in
The sweet embrace; with  

Our inhibitions so weak,
 Non-existent: Shall we engage
 In the Lover’s Dance beneath
The stars of the midnight fury

As we quench our collective thirsts

 Requisite of solving this nocturnal riddle?

Lo’! How I am howling beneath

A moon whose auspices enrage

Thy crashing tidal waves in blood

Coursing through these veins,

Begetting to me a power to wage war

 With only a temporary libertine reprieve! 

As our quixotic world
Is comprised o' nothing
But o' our own devices

Amid the legitimacy
O' our flesh, we must
 Never hinder the processes 

Imploring o' our extinguishing
Any threat the cold of
An ominous winter may pose
To our posterity and our world:

A world construct’d with
 The building blocks of our ardors:
 The manifestation of a new Eden,

For tho’ in our presence
Lies a cache o' trees
Ne’er bereft o' the presence
Of Lust’s Fruits: we are endow’d
With the virtue of Truth;

 We shall slay the serpent
With the fork’d tongue:

For we are the two
Lone survivors o' a holocaust
Of Hate and Avarice’s legacies,

The next best hope for Man,

And the restoration of
A perfect kingdom

 Beneath our God, in whom

Our covenant is held in trust

 Free of devilish deceits
And monstrosities.