The Beautifiul Man

An anxious crowd gathered at the feet of a beautiful man

whose aura breathed outwardly

genius mixed with hints of dark, troubled rivers

flowing into his speech:


“I love you,” he lied,

“because you love me as well.”


True it was. They did love him.


Because behind his curious smile lurked mystery enough

to impregnate the minds of sad men

their mad wives and their happy children

who interrupted their busy schedule

to lurk,

to gawk,

to wonder,

at the beautiful man who draped himself

with the cool black of silk and lover’s dreams,

whose gaze was as empty as the minds of his admirers

who danced as crooked as his queer gaze and grin

who talked of crazy deep things

like war and peace and good and evil

while collecting love and hatred that grew in the crowd

upon the black soil of his words.


“It’s not me that you want,” he thought.

It’s my madness that you seek.”


His words echoed down the thin alleys

as dusk arrived,

When they finally turned their heads

walked on and on and hand in hand

some sighed a burden released,

others breathed again for the first time,

and some pretended to laugh


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s