Fab, Beauty!

T[here] is beauty

In rout[e]ing –

As in paths and journeys

Not oaths and sundries –

For better times

And heads of good:

And so I imagine myself now

With women who love me for what I am.

I imagine it’s possible to be loved

With no agenda.

No diary of closing-in

On targeted man, as I have been.

When you know too much,

People fear you and see dark

Where no dark exists, 

And by seeing this non-existent dark

They mark it out wrong, yet real.

Thus they fear you so bad,

And they make out you’re so mad,

And instead of [en]dearing your beautiful mind –

And [em]bodying your sex,

And holding you close in soft and kindly embrace –






Of such beauty, delighted,

Is lost to their anger:

The anger they have born[e] of guilt for 

Crimes committed

Against your grand person;

Against your grand soul;

Against your wondrous old;

Against your bought and foolish sold.

And so I now pursue in gentle expectation

The beauty I say

Of woman who may grey 

And woman who may flay

And woman who may hey

Your life full and marked

By the dark of all the others – never






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