My emotions are caught in the tangled web of confusion
where there is no solution to dictate direction,
artfulness in dictating bullshit prose to an empty page
is not enough to satisfy my embattled, lusty rage,
arms reach to an empty sky where there is no forgiveness
to satiate the longing for your voluptuous breasts,
Your Holy Star remains out of reach of my outstretched arms,
Oh! To feel the pulsating vibrations of your endless charms,
but, alas, desire is the punishment inflicted on an egomaniac
too busy writing poetry under the wings of the awesome oak
to realize that dreams can dictate the face of reality
for those who believe that action speaks louder than poetry.
1980