The Longest Love Poem Ever Written
Sometimes I wish
I could see you in my dreams
All the time
(All the time)
I wish I could see you
Behind my eyelids
Every time I blink
There the Angel would be
Who talks and walks
Like The Devil Himself
You, who are so angelic and pure
While shooting up
With thorny needles
And gaining glowing
Foggy red eyes
With wings on your back
-Does no one else see them?-
They're not black or white
Not soft nor sharp
But they're alright
Let me describe you
My sweet slow addiction
Allow me to stay up
Night after night
Allow me to – with my unworthy pen
Write all the things you are
Until the ink runs out
(then I'll use my blood)
Until the paper is filled
(then I'll use my skin)
But I'll write it all
I'll write down exactly what you are
Until it is all recorded
That such a being did exist
And that must mean something
Let me record that
You are like Rain
You are like Sun
You are nourishment
Far superior to water and bread
No need to eat
No need to drink
No need to sleep
When you are alive in the world
You are the genius of a time
Of an age
Modern and ancient combined
Fused in a surreal embrace
Full of furry
And lack of Love
Flippant and aloof
You are the perfect
Distant observer
Oh to gain a glance!
Oh to gain a request!
Oh there can be nothing greater
How can this be?
How is this possible?
You try the patience
And wear the heart thin
As loving you
Is to love a machine or stone
Or blade of grass
Or prancing and fast-fleeing gazelle
So long it takes
To get a foot in
The tightly wedged door
Of your acknowledgment and care
All is slow-coming and even then
Trudging on and on
But all these things you don't even plan
Are pure genius
You are not ice cold white like winter
With extreme blue chill frost
Nor are you the steaming red hot fire
Of stifling sticky summer
You are instead
The cold breezes of Fall
The subtle comfort of Autumn
With its plodding pale
Oranges and yellows
And sweet whispers
Whistling through sparse trees
Falling asleep
Or just waking up
You could very well be
The wet, live of Spring
But no.
That would make you like a sunrise
When you arte so obviously
A gorgeous glowing Sunset
The world on fire dipped in ice
You are not airy
Or light or feathery
Without substance
Blue or clear or wispy
No, you are of the Earth.
Looking like a stumpy short
Little molehill yourself
As you stand so content
With eyes glowing
Eyes like a cat's – bright yellow
Like the sun through the leaves
And hair like the fresh, damp soil
And skin like every animal
Every cold-blooded creature
That slithers or crawls or jumps
And a clear voice
Like a brook as it runs over the stones
Wearing them all smooth
That voice.
That is like a thousand birds
All taking flight at once
That voice.
Oh tell me, please!
How on Earth
How in Heaven or in Hell
You could ever dream
Of condemning such a one
With such a voice as that!
How do you not tremble with Delight?
And sigh with infinite pleasure upon hearing it?
Soft and innocent
And ringing like bells!
How can you not
Instantly forgive
Any previous wrong
Committed against you
When you hear those words
Chirped so prettily
As if from a Devil-Angel-Bird
Created by an indecisive God
Who both wanted to make
A terrible mistake
And the greatest beauty
Ever to breathe human air
And live a much-too-short life
And while that same God
Flung parts together messily to make me
He held the clay so carefully
When it came to the mere Idea of You
He must have said,
'Here, this one will be envied!
Here, this one will be the most gorgeous,
Grandest, strongest, and dangerous being
I have ever and will ever create!'
And so here you are.
And here I am.
Your foolish following starving fool
Waiting anxiously for your gracious scraps to fall
Trying to seem like I don't need them
-Oh but you can clearly see I need them-
That I've completely given up all other
Sources of sustenance
Because after you – all is incompetent
And nothing is ever enough compared to you.
But you tell me to starve
And I'll starve!
You tell me to jump
And I will leap!
You tell me to burn
And I will roast to ashes!
You tell me to cry
And I will bawl gladly at your feet!
Tell me to fight
And I will be your army
And that is how awful your power is
And that I how weak my will around you is
But enough.
Allow me to further describe what you are
For that is what the world needs to hear.
That is the thing I need
To shout from rooftops until my voice is lost
You are the Moon.
But when it is a small sliver
-Covered almost all in black shroud-
You are Janis Joplin
Mixed with John Lennon
And Jimi Hendrix mixed with Tegan.
You are Green and Yellow
And brown and deep Red.
You are the wild rabid animal
So difficult to snag
Or even glimpse right away
The creature so very elusive
You have to wait months.
Months and months and months!
Crouching down among wet
Dirty scattered forest leaves
Gaining its trust so slowly
Proving your consistency
And loyalty and true desire
And after so many months
You still only barely manage
To brush the thing's fur
Slightly grazing the soft perfect thing
with your fingertips
but you'll continue to wait.
No doubt about that.
You'll stay in that forest
Until the months turn
To sorry years
And you die among the decay of Earth
Because you think
That might be a very fine way to die
Waiting for the one you love
You are like a drumbeat
Loud – and so violently strong
That you can feel the thumps
Beating against your chest
Beating against your heart.
To be continued…