MY HIGHEST PLEASURE

Here am I, writing and publishing the second poem dedicated to Selena Gomez. I do not know whether poetry should remain true all the time, but mine at least cannot make up its mind to lie even for a second. This poem, many will certainly say, is wishful thinking! but is not all of poetry wishful thinking… and wishful sinking… and wishful loving? As I am awaiting the dawn, there are wishes that are better let out, and all the better if they even remotely come true, someday, under the blazing sun, under the upper hand of Poseidon.

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To Selena Gomez.

selena-gomez (1)

Doth thee think it be my highest pleasure

To stroll in here with suns and moons as my only treasures

Similar to a saint brought back to life too many times before heaven’s time

Only to notice there is now no love to me forbidden

Only to comprehend I still am to arise and shine

Only to hold faith in your voice when darkness overwhelms

Only to let my ancient flowers to the ground burn ‘to ashes

To laughs to smiles to empty seashells nailed on Golgotha’s crosses…

 

Doth thee think it be my highest leisure

To sleep on the other side with none by my side

And hear your heart-bleeds through this grey heart of mine

Wishful to wear the jeans and walk in the shoes that never were mine

But since all is nothing without a friend-of-heart to share a smile at nights with

I could turn moons red of jealousy and suns pale of anger but that’d be childish

I could slow down rotations of the earth as she dances around a sun she wants to seduce

But that’d be needless and wary & vain for I’d be building wild-eyed babel tours in pandemonium

In my own mind for my gentle demons or for from you a sign…

Yes

I could be less

I could be blessed

And still remain a mess

Without a partner in crime to bear this sentimental verse

 Of my blue rhymes of my red odes of my love poems

— Gilles F. Dogbo

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