Forever the sensualist, pursuing the pleasures
Of the flesh and the transitory moment,
Every passing chance and fleeting lust
With your oh-so debonair, cavalier
Devil-may-care-can-take-me tomorrow attitude,
Never paying heed, feckless and reckless
Following every bizarre whim and contrary impulse.
You never know why you are the way you are,
Though upon any given day you may blame
The father for passing on his rogue genes
Designed to self-destruct whenever
You gain an instant of clarity and collected calm,
Or the mother for expelling you from the Eden
Of the womb into this world of sorrow and woe.
But why stop there, surely the impersonal God
In the vast unreachable fortress of the Heavens
Deserves a share for even thinking and therefore
Emanating all the demiurges and demons
To fashion this perfectly flawed creation
With its built-in obsolescent as the unique selling point
Yes the guilt and the shame has to be theirs
For the urges that you always have to act on
Regardless of consequences and the possibility
Of a whole universe of hurt and pain
But can anyone take the weight of such responsibility?
At times like this, better to drink deeply
And gamble on the possibility of redemption,
Within her encircling arms lies salvation
The pressure of her hand on your thigh
Hints at an all-encompassing bliss
An unsurpassed re-capturing of the holy moment
If only she holds on tight and doesn’t hold back
You could die right now looking into her eyes
But one moment escapes into the next
And this night, like all nights, has to end:
The sun breaks the magic circle
Ending the eclipsing spell
Returning you to the sleazy here and now,
The dishevelled bed in this pallid light
In this foetid atmosphere heavy with sex
With the bitter taste of a fulfilled desire
Turning heavy and cold in your mouth.
The time is now, I think,
Tomorrow has come
Your party is over
That race has been run
You sinned in such haste
Time now to repent
At, of course, your leisure
For Hell is forever.
cakeordeathsite 
Deep. Well done
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, I am worried it is a little too heavy, but I always follow the muse wherever she wants to go.
LikeLiked by 2 people
“For Hell is forever.” This is a punch. I love your poetry.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, I added this is just in case anyone thought this was too light-hearted for me. You know how fond I am of being dark. I really appreciate that Kindra.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I like the darkness as well. I have a tough time writing about rainbows. I usually piss all over light hearted poems at the end. Haha!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Happiness writes white we need the storms and the chaos and the confusion, otherwise it is just…unicorns.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Right! Oh! Maybe I’ll write about EVIL unicorns.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Did you ever watch The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. Mandy was ace, all pastel colours but never smiled and quoted Do what thou will shall be the whole of the law. She had a nice line in Evil Unicorns.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A staggering piece of writing, Mr Cake.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much, high compliment indeed.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Mr. Cake, certainly a boon for The Devil. Hurry up and stop means go, because, “Hell is forever”. I think you’ve painted a splendid picture of human nature. How can we ever help ourselves, really nothing is our fault, we can worry about shame and guilt tomorrow, or replace tomorrow with a repeat of today never getting close to the moment: time to repent. I adore your poetry, always a delight, always a slice of Cake. ~ Miss Cranes
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Miss Cranes for such a close and attentive reading and for honouring me with the universal. As usual with my poetry (not with my fiction, I always think too long and hard beforehand) I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to say when I sat down to write it, but I will admit that some happy accidents happened that added depth. As for the Devil, well, does he really need a boon with human nature being what it is?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Mr. Cake, you’re most welcome, and happy accidents are most welcomed anytime they decide to arrive. Good point, “with human nature being what it is?” ~ Miss Cranes
LikeLiked by 2 people
Well it is a great mystery… human nature and identity
LikeLiked by 1 person
Isn’t it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is
LikeLiked by 1 person
Repent at your leisure. Is it already too late for redemption? Feeling the weight of futility. Excellent writing, we burden ourselves with the guilt and shame for things we are doomed to perform over and over again.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, though I certainly don’t want to burden anyone with the weight of futility, I just like to use the darkest hues, the blackest of tinges. Plus I like to show the various sides. As for the eternal recurrence, well if everything we have said and done has already been said and done well I might as well say it again.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You absolutely should. Different ears will hear, different eyes will read. And a poem ‘painted’ with dark colors is far more to my taste than pastels with their saccharine cheer!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Needles to say I am not into upbeat pastels and saccharine.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No, of course not. Bitter tastes, foetid atmospheres, pallid light… I just can imagine the scene.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good that is all a writer can hope for is to make a scene live in the imagination
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think your writing is unique and wonderful, Mr. Cake.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a wonderful deep and dark poem. The old who-are-we-, where-do-we-come-from- and last but not least where-are-we-going-ploys. Musings on long forgotten, ever so faded paths. And who could we have been, as well. Are the persons that we became nice person. Does the mention of our name male other people smile out of joy and due to nice memories they recall?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, though a lot of the stuff is unintentional I am so pleased that it comes through. My unconscious must be doing something right!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Haha, yes… [**]
LikeLike
… fulfilled desire turning heavy and cold … great line. Love it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is extra dark chocolate Cake. Thank you Roger.
LikeLike
I imagine my choices and free will as a product of someone else’s desires. I’m a believer of predestination in many ways. We do what we do because we’re supposed to, however, my calculated steps become much more weighted and interesting because of it.
Perfect poetry, Mr. Cake
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you…maybe this is a little grim, but I ran away with the conceit of the title.
LikeLike
Grim, but I liked the thoughts I was allowed to visit.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well my pleasure…hopefully it made sense within its context.
LikeLike
You always make sense. Please don’t feel a need to explain. Your poetry is exceptional.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you kindly.
LikeLike
Deep and delicious Mr Cake. What we are compelled to be, to do, is it a sin?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Miss Heart for finding it delicious. Although I come off as an old fashion moralist in this poem (pleasure is a sin) my own feelings are more conflicted. But love and lust is a nerve racking psycho drama and it is part of the agony and ecstasy, because if our natures compel us there is a loss of agency and that is a cause of considerable pain. (This really doesn’t clarify matters much, I realise. I do like this poem a lot though).
LikeLiked by 1 person
In matters of love there is almost certainly a loss of agency. Beautiful poem, I like this very much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes there is and the urge to surrender identity and the will to power are locked in a struggle. I like to consider things from a variety of angles and love has the inexhaustible multiplicity of angles. Thank you Miss Heart
LikeLiked by 1 person