osho
08-21-2013, 08:22 PM
This is morning here
I get tuned to the radio-broadcast
I am numb and indifferent
My maiden gives me a cup of coffee and turns back
Seeing that the milieu is inedible to her virgin construct
I check with news but the events impress me not thoroughly
My wife inches closer and closer to me
Morning is not usually a good time for lovemaking
But body language and instincts know no authority
Aroused she offers me a bunch of kisses, the amorous sort
And in unspoken words urge me to touch her deepest part
On the other side facing me is a series of bloodbaths
Arsenic, chemical weapons, smokes of teargases
Children dying and others half-dying
The act of love making goes on and on unperturbed
Sheets soaked with semen
Opposites correspond inside me
A woman is conceived here for a child
A child dies there
This series of juxtapositions may excite a poet
Not me interleaved in the lusty net
Life is short-lived
Events happen instantaneously
My brains cannot pace with the contraries
Things that go amok compel me to feel unmoved
I cannot shoo her away
Consideration and concern gets pushed farther
I often think astronomically
Everything appears futilely
Births, growths, deaths,
Masses of wealth, educational and vocational pyramids go on like bubbles
To bust to give space to another series of events
I feel ethereal as if everything is intrinsically void and null
I negate the orgasmic moment mentally
But the body responds every advance of her yearningly
As if this is the greatest truth
The sperms irrigate her fertile womb
She moans rapturously in a mild and soothing pain in the act
Should children be born to be killed
Should buildings must be erected to collapse
Should men and women love to join and dis-join
These philosophical moorings
End up in nothing elemental
But life must go on and on
Supported by death
For all we need is space
Destruction creates space for reconstruction
And I take another sip of hot coffee
Alongside my wife with her beaming face
I am somewhat abstracted and divided and she - still hysterically romantic and unified.
The lusty body craves more
She is unwrapping
My mind is not fully stripped though the body is already
The truth of both sides runs on the canvas of my eyeball
My animal instincts are to be in sync
To feel the thrill of lovemaking
I am closing my eyes to distract my attention
From the Arab burning and Nigeria hungering panoramas
For the thrill and feel of her soft and meaty body is beguiling
The greater truth than the ones I am eying at the other end
I get tuned to the radio-broadcast
I am numb and indifferent
My maiden gives me a cup of coffee and turns back
Seeing that the milieu is inedible to her virgin construct
I check with news but the events impress me not thoroughly
My wife inches closer and closer to me
Morning is not usually a good time for lovemaking
But body language and instincts know no authority
Aroused she offers me a bunch of kisses, the amorous sort
And in unspoken words urge me to touch her deepest part
On the other side facing me is a series of bloodbaths
Arsenic, chemical weapons, smokes of teargases
Children dying and others half-dying
The act of love making goes on and on unperturbed
Sheets soaked with semen
Opposites correspond inside me
A woman is conceived here for a child
A child dies there
This series of juxtapositions may excite a poet
Not me interleaved in the lusty net
Life is short-lived
Events happen instantaneously
My brains cannot pace with the contraries
Things that go amok compel me to feel unmoved
I cannot shoo her away
Consideration and concern gets pushed farther
I often think astronomically
Everything appears futilely
Births, growths, deaths,
Masses of wealth, educational and vocational pyramids go on like bubbles
To bust to give space to another series of events
I feel ethereal as if everything is intrinsically void and null
I negate the orgasmic moment mentally
But the body responds every advance of her yearningly
As if this is the greatest truth
The sperms irrigate her fertile womb
She moans rapturously in a mild and soothing pain in the act
Should children be born to be killed
Should buildings must be erected to collapse
Should men and women love to join and dis-join
These philosophical moorings
End up in nothing elemental
But life must go on and on
Supported by death
For all we need is space
Destruction creates space for reconstruction
And I take another sip of hot coffee
Alongside my wife with her beaming face
I am somewhat abstracted and divided and she - still hysterically romantic and unified.
The lusty body craves more
She is unwrapping
My mind is not fully stripped though the body is already
The truth of both sides runs on the canvas of my eyeball
My animal instincts are to be in sync
To feel the thrill of lovemaking
I am closing my eyes to distract my attention
From the Arab burning and Nigeria hungering panoramas
For the thrill and feel of her soft and meaty body is beguiling
The greater truth than the ones I am eying at the other end