They Want Love

A Poem by RFDIII

I tire of reading trite love poems.

Those weary prey,
of are born night and day
Want love,
They want love,
Want love.

Wanton perception of love's coursing kiss,
twisting and turning; romanticized bliss.
Yet haunts of the clout of lover's iron fists,
Burning 'til yearning; deep bruises persist.

Oh - You are the love and the light of the sky!
The sun above one that does lift me so high!
A porcelain gun that combusts while I sigh.
Oh come, it's rubbish - You know well as I.

Love is a bond, not some sun in the sky,
Or some unsung partition awaiting to fly,
And those who say nay are attempting to lie,
Amongst dirt, mortal hurt; barbed spikes embed eyes.

Love is as dove whom must learn how to be
Lust but a want driving men out toward sea
And some dare say love, and want what they want,
Never to care of the one they so flaunt.

"O' love is the current that flows through gilt hair!"
Nay, love is a taste which elopes with despair.
And though they think love, lust permeates sultry air.
Want love,
They want love,
Want love.

© 2012 RFDIII

Author's Note

I tire of reading poems of love. You are my life. You are my universe. You are the phantasmagorical proprietor of my existence! Blegh!

But I digress;

Please enjoy!