27 October 2017

Weird

By Bud Koenemund

For C.

I’m weird? Pray tell, for writing little songs?
Articulating my feelings with verse?
While futile, would you call struggle wrong;
The offering of sentiment perverse?
But, I beg, remember, in days to come,
When thou art married, and bear two point three
Kids; suffering a man whose brain is numb;
Abiding ignorance, as love’s decreed
Through monosyllabic grunts; recall these
Scribblings fondly. Cherish those mem’ries
Awakened by words spun only to please
Your eye, with rhythm, and rhyme’s symmetry.
   Though there is strangeness in the proportions
   Of my mind, it feeds beauty’s expression.

22 October 2017

Guilty in Silence

By Bud Koenemund

For Arthur H. Monigold

He told me not to tell, and I didn’t.
His own grandson – once untainted; trusting –
Protecting a monster whose sin imprints
The soul, poisoning innocence with lust;
Breeding this maelstrom raging through my brain:
Lightning strikes of emotion – wrath and shame;
Hate and self-doubt – a tempest unconstrained.
Yet, misery lurks darkest in that blame
I carry for silence. An accomplice
To evil; remaining mute as he forced
This curse upon others; rending solace
From family: a guilt beyond recourse.
   Though my flesh bears no scar, memory steals
   Peace with injuries time will never heal.

14 October 2017

When I Have a Muse

By Bud Koenemund

For C.

When I have a muse, words fit perfectly;
Finding their places as if by magic,
While airy voices whisper secretly:
Poetry and prose midst verse emphatic.
I labor nonetheless, forging sonnets –
Shaping songs with odd old ends of language;
Bleeding ink on paper. This gift, honest
As it is, oft’ dooms my soul to languish;
Drifting through passionate desperation.
But, by your grace, confidence awakens:
Imagination invents expression,
And desire restores a faith shaken.
   Though form arouses creativity,
   ‘Tis thy genius which sparks my artistry.

02 October 2017

In Darkness You Will Discover Stars

By Bud Koenemund

For C.

The night of death falls hard upon the heart;
A sackcloth veil shrouding everything held
Dear; breeding grief while spirit breaks apart,
And sadness engulfs those places love dwells.
Lady, I bear similar injuries:
Numbed by depression time may never heal;
Self-doubt that taints both joy and misery;
Abandoned to sorrow without appeal.
But, through pain, loss can empower your soul.
The maelstrom which brings about destruction –
Surging memories whirling uncontrolled –
Could ignite a fire of creation.
   Breathe deep, and do not fear to show your scars;
   For in darkness you will discover stars.

30 September 2017

Breath

By Bud Koenemund

For K.

My hand was made to fit around your throat,
Enjoying the warmth of caramel skin,
Denying breath as my tongue darts and floats
Over flesh, blissfully drinking you in.
I squeeze, while you gasp, clutching at my wrist;
Mind struggling ‘gainst body’s desire,
A loss of control neither can resist –
Surrendering to burn in this fire;
The passion raging ‘til la petite mort
Erupts with a maelstrom of ecstasy;
Our pleasure and pain thunder as we court
That death before collapsing breathlessly.
   Domination and submission feed lust,
   But love matures in these displays of trust.

17 September 2017

Why?

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

You ask why I will not respond to calls;
Leaving communication neglected;
Letting silence greet appeals, as love falls
Discontented, and spirit’s infected?
Your indifference pierced my heart countless times.
Though, I confess, I granted admittance
To thy blade; an accomplice in these crimes;
Guilty, somehow, for want of resistance.
Still, you endure as muse: a soul’s agony –
Equal parts torment and inspiration –
Your face lingering in memory;
Ecstasy through pain: my devil’s bargain.
   Affection withered afflicted by lies;
   Yet, feigning ignorance, you ask me why?

22 June 2017

Seduction by Art

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

My ambition is seduction by art;
Tempting with lyrics that dance across skin,
As poetry speaks love from tongue to heart;
Stirring desire which blesses such sin.
Your form fires the imagination,
Shaping rhyme; verses take life in those eyes,
And a gloved hand could cause an eruption:
Expressions of fervor for one enskied.
I pray these words will arouse ecstasy –
Undressing body and mind; illicit
Acts to satiate lust: a melody
Of moans unifying flesh with spirit.
   My passion grows beyond concupiscence;
   An oath I trust will excuse this offense.