A Conquest Of Love

Feel the pressure of the sound the telephone makes

A ringing like a knocking at the door of your fear

Someone rattling the handle and rapping the hollow

Gnawing and niggling you, and nagging like a wife

A chilling reminder of unspent guilt

Or something you did wrong and you cannot remember

But in nightmares they catch you in a cross-fire of lights

At the foot of a wall you’re about to assail

No-one to hide you and nowhere to run

It’s you that’s to blame, no-one else, my son.

 

You don’t know it’s killing you but it’s not killing her

Your inevitable femme fatale

You sleep like a tramp in your ignorant stupor

Still fully-clothed and clutching her likeness

Every spare inch of your life goes to her

Your health, your wealth, your friends and your family

At the chime of her register they’ll just be a sale

A fair price of consequence for all you care

All for her, all for you, she’s all you need

She’s as Eve is to Eden, yet you are a weed.

 

You so need to be loved, so need such affection

An emotion of addiction to selfish ends

She dresses you, styles you, and fashions your means

Lest she pulls the strings, you have no control

Puppet-master, Queen, with assassin-black hair

Come here little doggy! Run faster, boy!

Your Mistress has spoken, her orders are final

Without them you’re nothing, without her you die

You love her far more than she’ll ever love you

And that power corrupts her in all she may do.

 

Your love is blind, your love is deaf, your love is dumb, and death

The nine-year life with your wife was erased

When she became Mother you were no longer ‘boy’

And the child you produced begs with innocent eyes

For his two-day-week Father to pay him attention

But you really must call her, your aggravated ‘lover’

To assure her, to cool her, to stop her from running

And to get her to say what you want her to feel

Then your little boy falls and cries out for Mummy

But all you can offer him is you as a dummy.

 

Man cannot stand by and observe such affliction

Cannot catch babies that drop from their cradles

Deny evil all you like, this Devil owns your life

Tell yourself she loves you, and nothing else matters

Then one day it’s all gone and there’s nothing else left

She clears her path of victory then, no battles left to plan

Plants her flag upon your soul, nails your heart upon a cross

Turns around, walks away, and lives to fight another day

And no-one will ever find you, or what you’ve become

But it’s you that’s to blame, no-one else, my son.

Reviews

[dieuxsansculte]

A femme fatale, no doubt, but what manner of weakness would cause a man to seek out such obvious witchery?

This is a really solid write. The imagery is taut and striking, and the metaphors pointed and accurate to perfection. One cannot read this, however, without seeing her natural counterpart, an homme fatale who entraps women through the same dishonest and dishonorable guile.

You really have a flair with the language and a fantastic vocabulary to back it up, and you really challenge me with your choice of images and ideas.

Enjoyed this very much.

[allie_arrowz]

that was very passionate and intense. which i liked. :)

[.]

go on ...blame the woman!!! Don't you just love relationships..the makeup of human destruction..we fail in love because we try to contain it..

[Bryony Burns]

It's like a short movie in the shape of a poem. I get the feeling that you are using a characters voice here, as in 'scripting' a voice? Very clever!

[Chris G. Vaillancourt]

Very vivid imaginary. Great write

[Wallflower]

I wonder why we all want someone good, someone pure, someone who is the "Wife" figure- a mother, a lover, a giver.... until temptation calls and we realize that our wants and needs sow different seeds.

Great imagery, a lesson of love and loss, but most of all that we choose what we love and lose.