Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 29, 2016

The course of pleasures~by Payal


 

 

The course of pleasures

In this compressed and digitized world,
synthetic psyche of loyal friends,
bailed refuge of torturous living,
greener than pastoral farms
and little affections that lead us on,
prescriptions from doctor that taste of
infinite jest,
I ingest them like a post meal task.

But oft, I like to return where
half-extinguished sky gleams of
aching dreams,
believable as cages opened mystically,
dialectical sublime of inland murmurs,
designated faith in our own senses.

Calm so deep,
on my own sweet will,
run through the chaos of promise lands,
where life after death really begins.

Debts of loss left unpaid on residential
streets,
series of fictional guises,
smuggle truthfully my innocence unseen,
as in razor cuts of pages in old diaries
that wore power of words once
and liberated like blank surreal tales
of sexual prowess from Victorian stage.

Polite and proverbial course of pleasures
dragged bodies strapped to the gurneys
into darkness we know nothing about.


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