Fire Cannot Feed Upon Itself

By Bud Koenemund

With apologies to Galway Kinnell

Fire cannot feed upon itself. Lacking
Fuel to sustain, it will suffocate;
Dying away – light dwindling toward black –
As flames, once furious, quickly abate.
To make it burn, I threw my whole self in;
Sacrificing pride; nourishing our spark;
Then realized I could never kindle
Passion matching mine; that knowledge a stark
Reminder of the wasteland devotion
Leaves behind – solitude seared in my soul;
Scorched by incendiary emotion,
While embers, neglected too oft’, grow cold.
   The love extinguished cannot be renewed;
   Yet, memory smolders with thoughts of you.

From Crush to Crushed (Part VI): One Lie

By Bud Koenemund

“I just want you to be happy.” I lied.
The first, and only, one I told her;
After ruin inevitably denied
Those flames I fought to kindle – smoldering
Embers never reaching incandescence.
It’s bullshit. I know it. She knows it, too.
Still, it’s what you offer – at pride’s expense –
When there’s nothing else to say; naught to do.
Yet, even in this deception lives truth;
Despite betrayal, I cannot wish pain
On a soul once adored, but seek to soothe
Their conscience, while my own heart is constrained.
   I can’t pretend as if I didn’t care;
   Obliterating the affection dared.

From Crush to Crushed (Part V): The Other Shoe

By Bud Koenemund

Right from our start, I knew how this would end:
The only way it can for guys like me…
Though I hoped ‘gainst hope passion could transcend
A past of loss – erasing misery –
Intellect recognized the bitter truth,
And shouted warnings which went unheeded;
Burying a soul in despair unsoothed,
When your turn pronounced my love unneeded.
Sadly, even if it’s true, “I never
Intended to hurt you” doesn’t lessen
This pain I feel. Those words wound forever
The heart a fool left in your possession.
   I composed verses praising her beauty,
   Unaware of how ugly she could be.

From Crush to Crushed (Part IV): Idiot

By Bud Koenemund

"Everyone's heart is an idiot." - Thomas Paris

My heart, I fear, has played the fool again;
Deceived by lies; left inconsolable,
After desire o’re sense gained free reign,
And malice made passion disposable.
How many times can a heart survive
Being broken – shattered anew – before
Surrendering; refusing revival
Only to stumble on forever torn?
If everyone’s heart is an idiot,
Why seems it especially so with mine?
In the book of love found illiterate;
Destined to be alone by fate malign.
   Affection oft’ exacts a dreadful cost;
   Intellect is crushed and sanity lost.

From Crush to Crushed (Part III): It Ends the Same Way

By Bud Koenemund

I’ve seen this episode before… many
Times. Inevitably, it ends the same way;
Bud fools himself into thinking any
Woman could give a fuck. A display
As pitiful as it is laughable;
Watching this clown blunder ‘gainst his own heart;
Enduring agony while damnable
Madness poisons a spirit torn apart.
Though he knows the risk invites solitude,
He’ll create passionate sonnets, and send
“Good morning, Beautiful” texts, as prelude
To a climax that leaves him unmended.
   While there is holiness in affection,
   Suffering oft’ becomes love’s conclusion.

From Crush to Crushed (Part II): All or Nothing

By Bud Koenemund

My heart knows but two ways: all or nothing!
Rushing toward love with reckless abandon;
A fool; ignoring intellect’s warnings;
All the senses overwhelmed by passion.
Unable to acknowledge this danger,
My mind soars on winds of euphoria,
As desire and judgement ‘come strangers
Reveling in temporary glory.
Indeed, this flaw corrupted affection
For thee – I gave devotion sans Reason;
Leaving my spirit in destitution;
Stumbling through a wasteland all alone.
   This defeat must be confessed unblushing;
   I gave all… and ended up with nothing.

From Crush to Crushed (Part I): Fooled

By Bud Koenemund

You fooled me into believing I could
Be worthy of love; a soul misled to
Think – despite previous defeats – this would
Work; that affection was given one who
Might finally requite the warmth received;
Mirroring my effort and devotion.
But, once more, this heart’s desire deceived
A mind vulnerable; lacking notions
Of treason; blind to prevarication.
Though intellect provided ample warning,
Enchantment deafened sense, and illusion
Grew quickly, obscuring misgivings.
   Reality killed my season of joy,
   And lies left behind a spirit destroyed.

Heaven Help Me

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: January 2021)

Heaven help me, I get lost in your eyes;
My mind enchanted by those circled orbs –
A maelstrom of fantasy spinning – while sighs
Escape from lips longing to kiss yours.
Oh, I must confess, too many waking
Thoughts are consumed by daydreams; my focus
Struggling ‘gainst grace; Reason’s forsaken,
Abandoned to a barely disguised lust.
Yet, even this concupiscence is pure –
A respect undimmed by base desire –
And my heart requires no other cure
But passion, for which I’ll risk Hell’s fire.
   I do revel in thy beauty endued;
   Treasuring ev’ry moment spent with you.

Slow Motion

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: December 2020)

Know’st thou that moment in each Romantic
Comedy, when yon fiery mistress
Doth approach the hapless teen male, flicking
To and fro, with careless ease, her lustrous
Mane; while time – defying reason – passes
In slow motion, and said young man does gawk;
Stupefied – as concupiscence crashes,
O’erwhelming intellect – too stunned to talk?
I have known thee beyond thirty moons full –
My heart being surrendered from the first –
And, though I am mad – thought, by some, a fool –
I swear to you, with passion unrehearsed:
   When I see thee, my entire world stands still;
   Struck dumb, as heavenly choirs trill.

Believe in Love Again

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: December 2020)

I will help you believe in love again;
Make thee feel adored and celebrated;
Safe enough to surrender; free of pain;
Sans sorrow; through my affection sated.
I’ll gather the pieces from your broken
Heart; combining them with such remaining
Parts of mine; building a fire which mends
Both – forged as one by passion unrestrained.
My soul’s quest shall be to make you smile;
Holding thy hand while healing the spirit.
Let not these flowery words beguile
Your eyes – those orbs I can never forget –
   But, trust in my actions, for they will prove
   This respect and devotion ‘ever true.

Affection's Embers

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: November 2020)

It may sound hyperbolic; cliché;
Or, like silly sentimentality;
But, when I see you, the Sun appears; its rays
Spreading warmth through my soul; a quantity
Of joy absent for decades; sparking light
In a spirit abandoned to darkness.
Your grace kindles desire and delight;
Arousing love lost in a wilderness,
Frozen near to death – now granted new life.
Dare I hope for ecstasy? While the head
Urges caution, my heart has forgot strife –
Seeking a future of passion instead.
   Despite the past, affection’s embers glow;
   Requite my care, and make this fire grow.

Stuck in the Middle With You

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: October 2020)

Every word I’ve written thee is true –
My passion sans deception. Be assured
This heart remains dedicated to you:
The affection pledged innocent and pure.
But, sometimes I feel lost; directionless;
Wanting guidance. Lacking thy confidence,
I’ll find myself in the same wilderness
Where, once upon a time, indifference
Starved this soul near death. Yet, Lady; I know
Your past and mine that way are kindred.
Though, in life, we have both paid heavy tolls,
I pray, together, love grows unimpeded.
   While insecurity conspires to
   Deceive, it cannot dim respect for you.

Complicated

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: September 2020)

Though I may be thought a fool to reveal
Desire – once more exposing my mind
To misery; tearing scars barely healed
After injuries caused by one unkind –
My soul yearns for thee, regardless of chance!
Ignore the torment in our pasts, and stand
With me. Please forgive this awkward advance,
And, grant the honor of holding your hand.
I, here, offer love willingly, despite
Complications which life can oft’ present;
Endeavoring to make my heart respite
For thine, with affection incandescent.
   Through storms of time, this promise will endure:
   Always and forever in passion pure.

Stupid

By Bud Koenemund

Sadly, regarding matters romantic,
I have rarely lacked for stupidity;
While love turns my nature sycophantic,
No lady requites this avidity.
Madness arises as passion displays
Intensity in emotion – all or
Nothing; the only way I know – unswayed
By complications; my vow: to adore.
Though defective Reason cannot excuse
Patterns that seem an addiction to pain,
The mind suffers when a heart is abused;
Leaving senses suspect, and doubt ingrained.
   For my ignorance, time will grant no cure;
   Nor patience, this agony, to endure.