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The Art of Seduction : A Poem
Posted by
Christopher Rose Magic

I wrote this poem a handful of years ago on one of my MySpace Blogs.  When MySpace changed their system, I thought that I had lost this document forever.  Luckily I was able to find it through their archive service. The poem was written in 20, 6-line Stanzas.  The rhyme scheme is based on Old English or Nordic poetry.  Originally, this was intended to be about any compulsive obsession.  But now I find deeper meaning in it.

Let me know how you feel about it.

The Art of Seduction

A die has been cast,

And the stage has been set,

For a journey of past-life regression,

Packing bags just a few,

Of the lies we both knew,

Using you as the fuel of obsession.

My poisonous lips,

Drain a puddle of faith,

My symphony not lacking all but a sound,

Moving straight through the flesh,

My words caress and undress,

When no virus by you has been found.

Infecting your touch,

And ensnaring the senses,

We take the next step of our devilish dance,

Through the darkness of night,

I’ve clouded your sight,

Our minds lost in the maze of a trance.

My exotic desire,

And entangled ecstasy,

Could not have been more perfectly timed,

For in your realm of need,

Your happiness I did falsely feed,

Our lives not torturously intertwined.

The fantastical joy,

And imagined wonder,

Disguising itself as a brand new beginning,

So much I did not know,

As the monster did grow,

Realization of my blasphemous sinning.

Slowly it’s given,

Your heart furiously beating,

A relic swollen of untouched unclean hands,

For my election of lovers,

And your rejections of others,

Meets perfectly with my sadistic demands.

Slowly-ashes to ashes,

I crumble away,

No single true thought or word or statement,

For your thoughts are not true,

Some are broken and askew,

As I perform this spiritual heart replacement.

Suddenly the tables have turned,

The truth seen deeply in your eyes,

No knowledge of the fact- you’re too late,

An epiphany of perception,

The fruit of my complex deception,

Through you I’ve altered the hand of fate.

Banishing deeply in darkness,

Far removed from the light,

I am added to an unknown collection,

Suffering greatly from your loss,

Misunderstanding the magnitude of the cost,

Your love was my lethal injection.

Torn apart and ripped away,

The shattered mirror of your reflection,

Diminishes deeply in my mind via separation,

And the stages of grief,

Each passed through once- none were brief,

Spawn painfully a cognitive indication.

To restart the demon,

Beginning fresh and anew,

The genesis of the endpoint transformed to the beginning,

The alpha-omega of reason,

Commits to me a personal treason,

As I begin again my cycle of trust-winning.

No near yet so distant,

Our connection remaining,

Spreading confusion near which false angels flew,

Willfully designing entrapment,

You become my disposable encampment

Awakening pleasures for which my dark interests grew.

Consumed by decay,

Young wounds old changed to new,

Persuade you into silent animation,

Grasping so faintly to the truth,

You proceed; ignorant and aloof,

Seeking fiendishly a reminder of that loving sensation.

Entangled once again,

In my most sacred web,

Vainly praying the slavery to release you,

Though all things grow to ending,

There exists not a method of heart-mending,

In reality the guilt of my pleasure diseased you.

Opening your eyes ever slowly,

You change from object to person,

Becoming more conscious now enlightened,

I pushed patiently with persistence,

Unable to siege your educated resistance,

No longer loved; now of me you are frightened.

The intensity of your words,

Like silver bullets of hate,

Turned on the master in a labyrinth of directions,

Feeling love/hate for myself,

Vulnerability displaying openly like that on a shelf,

Comes the paradox of my life now missing its best sections.

I can hear it so clearly,

Like the shriek of someone in pain,

My desires to me whisper depressions,

I try to silence all voices,

But in my listening I had no choices,

They visit hauntingly, in routinely daily sessions.

I cried my body to a corpse,

Scattering ashes to the winds,

Each grain evidence of psychological manipulation,

You completed me, and I used you,

But your ignorance abused you,

No despair echoes deeper in the imagination.

The fluid of time, passing,

Making ripples so smoothly,

No day gone by without of her a thought or a mention,

Pleading for closure the words I used I meant,

As I rearranged the letters in the word “Listen” to spell the word “Silent”,

My goal, finding peace, remained my intention.

But our Preternatural love was too strong,

To have been founded on lies,

Thinking of you became my violent meditation,

You pierced holes in my seams,

Until peace was revealed in my dreams,

Saying death is not an act of creation.

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