The Rave

It is only with a guarded heart
That I have sailed these tormenting seas,
Where, before crystal gaze start,
Cold dagger brings loving cease.

Braving storms of uncertainty
And fighting constrictive melancholy,
I have discarded the lusting obscenity
That is the hopeless romantic’s folly.

Having bound the restless waves
Till my compassion shrouded opaque,
My soul wrenched toward unholy raves,
In which my flesh dances to forsake.

Rhythmic alternating bass-beat
And everlasting chaotic lyric tones
Coupled with fog-sheered street
Lit in differing fiery tempered cones,

My body flits in melodic rhythm
As my spirit released ecstasy’s prayer.
The warrior’s stance became phantom
As reality’s harsh truths faded the strayer.

In this land of blackened leather,
Cold steel touch and fishnet capture,
I had released determined tether
To fall freely in dark, lustful rapture.

Surrounded in company of the wicked,
Compassion’s sinful urges shadow
My heart, only thrilled zombie sicced,
As lustful desires, in vampiric kiss, set aglow.

As my entire self falls to pure addiction,
It is here where I feel most crestfallen
That the heavens send my benediction
In angelic form, rave chick blazon.

In spinning her Elysian fires,
The hellish fiends retreat
From the fallen arc that my life sires.
Her essences tastes, on weary soul, sweet.


Her encompassing smile, turns me tranquil,
As softened touch slows my darkened pulse.
Seductive brown eyes, loving force, channel
Calm serenity, from my torment, avulse.

Golden silk hair flows in blessed air,
As my rave chick flows, seemingly lyrical,
To show me, the forlorn lover, her care,
Affinity and love, in a trinity perfectly equivocal.

In her presence, my heart again finally beats,
Only true love’s testament can revive.
It is her beauty that, my soul receipts,
Inspires me to passionately survive.

Holding rave chick, in redeemed grasp,
I realize that my hopeless romantic ways
Will turn smooth, angelic beauty rasp,
And taint her innocence always.

It is with sorrowful return to guard
That I retake, from her, my sorrows,
And leave her only passionate regard
Of eternal bloom in form of a pink rose.

As this rose will come to represent,
The true heartfelt blessing of mine:
The love, for her, I would have sent,
Shall stay the wilt in compassionate define.

by Robert L. Bixler III

Other poems of BIXLER III (69)

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