Saturday, April 11, 2009

I suppose I should be frightened

I am learning more about what burns inside my demon muse. He tries to spare me, but sometimes I stumble upon information... He hadn't told me about the activity he refers to below. Our schedules last week were too complicated to accommodate the meeting we both wanted. His needs were too pressing. He couldn't wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Probably worked to your advantage, since I have been trying to think of a word for the session and can only come up with savage. To share a little more of the insight you seemed to enjoy last time, I will say that afterwards, I was almost nauseated, and not in the existential/Sartre way, but actually physically sick, sort of. Fun, huh?
I suppose I should be frightened.
I suppose I should be buying
iron bars for all my windows,
bars to keep the werewolf
and his fangs from breaking in
and tearing strips of bloody flesh
and anguished screams from my white throat.
At least the house is brick,
cinder block and brick so that
the wolf can’t blow it down.

He is a fearsome beast.
I never would deny
that hungers such as haunt his
days and dreams are not the sort
that any cautious pantheist
would want to tempt with
sexiness unconscious and with
innocent allure.
And yet he draws me back.
I just cannot resist the –
no, I don’t know what it is but
better judgment never had a chance
and so I always wear his chain,
as real as if he’d soldered
a steel collar round my neck.

It’s better that I know.
Better not to see or hear or feel
the worst that he can do,
but better, too, that I can get these
tiny peeks inside his darkened cave
so that I know a little more of
man and beast I loyally serve.
And in the end,
while I might crave surrender
to his fiery intensity, and
greedy lust and passion as he
crashes through defenses that
had never been expected to
protect from such as he;
while I might even yearn
to show that I would take
the pain that he knows well
can never fully sate
the fiend when at his worst;
there may be times like this,
when he might think I’d flee the scene,
and yet this silly poet,
who really should know better,
has just this foolish wish –
to hold his head in her bare lap
until the sickness ebbs away,
while singing Yiddish lullabies
in that unguarded breathy voice
that makes him tightly grip the chain
and never set me free.

Meanwhile, I grow my nails.


[Posted with volunteered permission.
The last line is a private reference.]

8 comments:

baby girl said...

wow! i'm speechless. forever humbled by your beautifully haunting poetry.

oatmeal girl said...

Thank you. This is one of the most naked pieces I've ever written for him. But how else could I respond to what he wrote me? I've never thought of a sadist as someone who suffers, but slowly, bit by bit, I'm beginning to understand his own pain.

selkie said...

OG- sometimes I think sadists (at lesat the non-sociopathic ones) suffer more than we do. Beautiful haunting piece.

cutesy pah said...

beautiful writing as always, sweetie.

and remember, artificial nails are actually stronger than the real thing.

oh yes, and this piece reminds me of the beginning lines of "Took The Words Right Out of My Mouth" by Meatloaf. Remember this?

Man: On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

Woman: Will he offer me his teeth?

Man: Yes.

Woman: Will he offer me his jaws?

Man: Yes.

Woman: Will he offer me his hunger?

Man: Yes.

Woman: Again, will he offer me his hunger?

Man: Yes.

Woman: And will he starve without me?

Man: Yes.


Woman: And does he love me?

Man: Yes.


Woman: Yes.

**********************************
hmmm...... werewolves and vampires make the most delicious lovers.....

Liras said...

Frightened?

No such thing!

mamacrow said...

cutsey pah - you omitted the best line! Wolf: I bet you say that to all the boys... :D Gotta love Meat. He was my first live gig.

'and yet this silly poet,
who really should know better,
has just this foolish wish –
to hold his head in her bare lap
until the sickness ebbs away,
while singing Yiddish lullabies
in that unguarded breathy voice
that makes him tightly grip the chain
and never set me free.'

this is beautiful OG, the sweetest thing you've written (that I've read).

I'm agog with speculation over the private nails reference!

oatmeal girl said...

selkie - what i am learning stuns me, and the fact that he is willing to let me see inside his pain moves me deeply.

i actually hate really long nails, cutesy pah, and artificial nails would just creep me out. besides, privacy is important, and my friends would think something was definitely up if i was spotted with long, fire engine red nails. saved by the need for subtlety!

i don't actually know the song. but i know a lot of the wolf and my throat and his teeth. he is not gentle.

Liras - in fact, i am rarely frightened. and when i have been truly frightened, he has rethought how to get from me what he needs without going past what i can handle. i am both stunned and grateful that he is willing to make such adjustments, which seem to belie his own rules.

mamacrow - i was surprised that he didn't pooh-pooh that last section. the image was so strong for me, the desire to do that, to hold his head in my lap and just be there for him as he recovered from the reaction to what he'd done. the reference to Yiddish lullabies is another personal reference. the poem really was an offering to him, and i was surprised when he offered permission on his own for me to post it.

cutesypah said...

as one who has worn acrylic nails for the last 20 years, I can't stand my real nails. I certainly understand and appreciate your opinion - not everyone likes them.

I've been having a conversation with Daddy about my submitting to his pain and his darker fantasies. He struggles with this as he loves me so. It's a real mix of pain and pleasure for him as well.

I've always thought that to show one's vulnerability in truth shows one's great strength and depth.

The rip tide is always greater down below where few ever suspect it. It can pull you down before you ever realize it, and suddenly, you're in over your head, and you can't breathe.

Pain is such a great tool for insight!