ROCK STAR TO BLACK HOLE (Nov. 1989)

None were alike Strangers some; still I appeared Translucent to all.
Their perception was not only similar it was the same.
None seemed puzzeled "You're in love with him",
Leapt to their lips moments into my diatribe.
I arose and retreated each day to a dwelling where mildew and moss
Were busily breeding on the vacancy signs that hung above the doors
Of reason and understanding. "Doomed" might as well have been engraved
Across my countenance In bold emphatic type.
These soothsayers, diagnosticians each, chose the word Love
Rather than doom. Love Doom they are synonomous to me.
ARTHUR ARTHUR ARTHUR I was a placard of devotion.
Still loathe to call it love was I. Everyone I encountered was assaulted
By the cresendo of that drone tone. ARTHUR ARTHUR ARTHUR
It began to taste like poison in everyone's mouth but mine. I continued to eat
And drink freely of it. ARTHURARTHURarthurart...Innocents were infected
ARTHUR-ITIS. Lord have mercy. In time all grew weary. My affliction was
By now epidemic. I was told the only ointment that heals is time.
No Doctor...No Priest No cult crashing, kidnaping, deprogrammer
Could assure that even time, held properties
Sufficient to heal this arthuritis of mine. My condition was graven,
When reminded that many Arthur-itic predecessors had perished.
Well...recovery seemed bleek and blind until, some survivor
Told me,"Time wounds all heals" the thought unleashed
A reservoir of demon fighting anti-bodies Within.
My imagination dashed unbound envisioning the delicious evolution
Of a destiny so just. Star becomes Quasar, becomes Pulsar ,becomes White Dwarf,
Becomes Black Hole. Destiny is devine. Rock 'em Sock "em the game he played.
They called it Love, I couldn't call it. When it comes to Love,
Fractures life or death "what's Love got to do with it?"

copyright November 89
poeia

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