Total Articles: 29

Total Comments:

Made: 2

Received:

All My Articles:

About Me

Michael hates referring to himself in the third person and is studying an MA in Social Research (Sociology). He was a performance poet (he still writes occasionally), and is a musician (recently he returned to modernist composition and experimental forms after many years of making multi-genre 'popular' music). His research interests encompass the notion that spatiality, modernity and the 'crisis of masculinity' in the West have resulted in higher suicidality among men (approximately FOUR times as many men kill themselves as women). Oh yes, and he's pretty much interested in anything else under the sun...

If you would like to get in touch, please feel free to contact me using the email form below:

Thanks!

A cynical poem about Love

Halfway through watching ‘The English Patient’ I stopped it and wrote this as my reaction. I don’t really think this, of…

Love, what is love but sorrow
of lust satiated?

The jeer of the cynic, leering
contemptuously at the fool?

The waning lamp at dusk
when crows lambast?

Or stirring passions cut
by a venom stare?

The rotting of the mortal flesh
resounding year by year?

The steel-barred block
of closeness rent by fear?

The swift repulse of sweetness
melt to ashen, rancid malice

The shifting pulse of meekness
ill conceals a poisoned chalice

A grinning shaft from
hefted bow impaling at the core

For love, and lovers loving,
pre-empts the world’s undoing

For love and lusty fumblings,
are naught and nothing more.

Now you have read A cynical poem about Love help other people find it by adding some tags at the top of the page to describe what you think it was about. Learn more about how it works . . .

Comments

Add your own comentary to this piece using the form below. Your comments will be emailed to the author and displayed on the site.

Michael Mendones