The Web Poetry Corner
DreamMachineThe Web Poetry Corner is a Dream Machine Site
The Dream Machine --- The Imagination of the World Wide Web
Google

The Web Poetry Corner

Karl Vincent Langstramm

of

Eugene, OR, US

Home Authors Alphabetically Authors Date Submitted Authors Country Submission Rules Feedback



If you have comments or suggestions for Karl Vincent Langstramm, you can contact him or her at:
spiroknavenine@yahoo.com (Karl Vincent Langstramm)


Find a book store near you, no matter where you are located in the U.S.A.!


Cerzan

...the best independent ISP in the Twin Cities

Gypsy's Photo Gallery


The Fate of Destiny that Might Have Been (Version 2.0)

by

Karl Vincent Langstramm


the awe

of destiny that must’ve always been

rivaling out of the depths of betrayel

the raw red irony
of
seeing her love at first site face
never touched
never been
never

exclusively designed for the likes of me
as mine must be for hers
never knowing a thing what each other’s seen

what a terrible scene

furiously coveting every curve and contour of hers
to be touched by for all eternity at will

never

sharing that tawny olive skin . . . of a hybrid Apache and Hun from Central Europe
to find this fellow creature of GOD and GODESS in female form I

that must mate
before its too late
as i must mate too

what can in mind and soul
and heart?
seeing and feeling night after night

gorious destiny
robbed and raped
lost . . .
never

envy and guilt
dagger venom dagger
assassins crouching in shadows
backstabbing
in deceit

love is never conquest
conquest is domination
domination is sadism
and sadism the other side of masochism
are definitely most definitely not love
love is never conquest

conquest is an ugly victory
of futile attempt to torment another soul
in a stupid game

fury that insults and ridicules
inner most heart desire

challenge and eternal rivalry is all i see and insight . .

this time
this time
she’ll know it must have been.
this time
she’ll feel it must have been
this time she’ll see it always was
and still could be
this time she’ll live or die never free from wish and want . . .
and wisdom of

why we must have been

this time she’ll really feel

again i am her kind.
And my kind is her
again i, her, and we are one
and we really must have been

this time she’ll see.
we’re co-ed prison cellmates
with an impenetrable completely transparent partition between each other,
separating us from ever touching one another.

she will see

there is a door in the middle of the cell.
i have the key to unlock our cell,
but the key hole is on her side and no way to give it to her
just show . . .
show
she has all the necessary locksmith tools,
but no patience to use a single one,
----- and my patience has been tested to the very limits of
too many frail over inflated egos belonging to everyone and
no one
as I try to explain what the key looks like,
and again to see her totally ignoring me

and how she could ever turn a blind eye
I’ll never know

eventually she’ll get the lock open from no help from I
and I’ll kick a hole in the wall from where I’m standing
and she knows this
so frightened that i'll alert the guard
or be the first one out
so that i can have my selfish ways

that's so incredibly sad
and so incredibly insulting that anyone ever feels
so threatened by someone for all the wrong reasons.

Supple tits
shown off
off off off . . . .
for me
teased
never to touch

the burning blackened hole and staining remnant of envy
unleashed and lashed out
deeply rooted
down down
smouldering at the depths of desire
festering with the last hope of redemption
for one more burning stick of nicotine
and naga champa incense
and blood throbbing rock dick
one more time . . . ‘cause she won’t put out
and insults me with ambiguity once again

anything for exclusive consensual mating
privelages
anything for those 3000 rpm strokes of genius released
flaming love so great so irrationally wild and savage
and beyond all
tearing and burning the rules and foundations of all time
. . . and space . . . . traveling backwards and upside down . . . ripping and shredding with no care for butterfly effect.

Exploding apart every bit and piece of reality of betrayel
with great GOD fearing love,
human spirit
and fertile gonads fueled
by a heart sanctified and purified . . . .

for complete martyrdom
and never forsaken ever again . . .

the itch . . . the last bastion of scorpion
scorching prayer
and hurt of raw vinegar soaked habanero pepper
in my mouth once again
that this not be another false pride. . . .

there are ones who know exactly what they did wrong
to bear me in this world as they did . . .
without ticket to hitch a lift and catch the train
she caught . . . just 17 days and 2510.69 miles west of
where i arrived.

damn them to hell
for the lies that
every being without reason to consider being absolutely completely without me.

what is life worth without having that muse
that goal
that challenge that inspiration
and
condemnation and willingness to crush everything AND everyone in the way of one’s path for her love?

that what would ever ever ever ever . . . give her any desire to open her legs for anyone else but me?

oh GOD bless the awe of destiny that must’ve always been
GOD bless it and bless the relief of burden
With no care in the world to damn to hell every living soul in the entire world if it don’t be
fulfilled

the fate of all creation must hear me scream again from the depths of forsaken agony and torment.

is this yet again satanic stalking lust?
obsessive noble good crush.

neptune . . . . . . . is rife
poseidon and the GODess of mermaids on the rag gone
furiously fucking at once
at the bottom of the ocean
sending out his and her crimson semen soaked orgasm

and the ocean calls and rattles its waves
whispering threats of sending
tsunamis ashore
drowning those on earth for unwilling
to experience loving intimacy
while they can

and i won’t blink an eye if IT
crushes the entire West coast . . everyone there like it did from Sumatra

and every high rolling hotel chain on coastal resort to pieces . . .

purify my heart from
the stalking devilishly lust
obsessive noble angelic
tender loving crush
that won’t let anyone care about that one true love
soon enough.

Avenging rejection with poetry is all my life was ever worth.

We both deserve someone now more than ever

What does it take to be ready?
We were designed to be ready 20 years ago. . . .
But someone else held us back.
Someone who must pay.

Give it up they say you little dreamer
you puerile loud mouth
Nagging little brat
From those pigs so portly and full of fat

Give it up says the old woman with
The beady eyed little overprotective old shrew
"I’m the one and only one" who’ll ever know what’s best
for you

Take it back for no one but the fate that must’ve been
Take it back for the furious avenging
consequences of someone else’s sin

distant visionary hopeless
Love never hurt absolutely
so good

I LOVE THE IRONY
I LOVE IRONY
I LOVE the paradox
I LOVE IT and I LOVE her
For everything she is with or without her
No matter what she decides.

And I don’t care who knows.

the world will see the ironies clearly
world will have to love its ironies so absolutely clearly
dare the world condemn my soul for the ironies of love
so clearly

Textbook psychologists write and want to profile me as

"
The typical profile of delusional stalkers is that of an unmarried and socially immature loner, who is unable to establish or sustain close relationships with others. They rarely date and have had few, if any, sexual relationships. "

NO this time I entertain no delusions to hear her choice is her own without me forever.
THE FATE OF DESTINY THAT MUST HAVE BEEN is an irony so incredibly pure

the crystal blue visionary lucid irony of this love’s flawless beauty is here to shock the world in Cataclysmic AWE and I make no shame to anyone about it

Bring it on Jody my muse.

Beautiful poetry exclusively inspired by no one but God’s will that I must love someone something like you.