Hail to Thee, Lady Chatterley
From "Chapter Three Poetry"
Lady Chatterley
Oh so true
Lady Chatterley
Praise be to you
Magnificent minds make smallness of life
All that’s felt, animalistic rot
But being alive is the edge of the knife
Not handle nor sheath, your gratification bought
Only alive when throwing yourself in
Nakedly sensitive to all that’s presented
Slipping by unheeded, untouched the sin
The sickening half-life sourly resented
So much time in my mind, wrapped up in it all
Philosophy, poetry, fathoming the deep
Hearing the intellect, deaf to Venus’ call
Bounding out from everything in which I steep
Unpeel your packaging, step into the fire
No heat, no passion, afraid of the flames
Running from risk, dousing desire
The temperate, careful life suffocatingly tames
Listen yee intellects, yee rulers, yee speakers for God!
Self-righteously ascending to your fictionalized heights
Through the muck of the ego you unwittingly plod
Moon ever waning, shrinking from the lustrous nights
About the Creator
Nick Jameson
Of the philosopher-poet mold, though I'm resistant to molds. I'm a strongly spiritual philosophical writer and progressive ideologue. I write across genres, including fiction, non-fiction and poetry. Please see my website infiniteofone.com.
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