The Definition of Insanity

Hello once more, O loyal followers of the imposter. I have been at it again, I just couldn’t help myself, I keep scribbling my madness out onto pages to inevitably infect the world. This latest piece is one that has been long brewing, and one that is very personal to me in an odd way. It’s about beauty, more specifically the beauty of women and an attempt, however misguided or feeble to try and encompass how I at least perceive that beauty. I have been blessed with many wonderful women in my life, friends, lovers, family and to me, in my eyes they have all been beautiful. The thing is, many of them don’t seem to think so, just will not see it, refuse to even acknowledge the possibility for one second that they are beautiful. This has been a particular source of both frustration and pain for me, particularly when it has involved the few women I have been fortunate enough to be involved with on an intimate level. I have tried for years to make them believe me, but they never seem to, the most common reply to my awed commentary on just how wondrous I have found each and every one of them is a rather bitter “I’m glad you think so” followed by a rather rueful little laugh. I have kind of resigned myself that there is nothing I can do to truly convince those women, or any of the others out there who just can’t see what is plain as day to me and I am sure many others. This poem, however is a kind of supreme attempt to convey what I have always seen and felt, for those women in my life and all of the other truly beautiful women out there who deserve to be told, every day, how much they bring into the world just by gracing it with their presence and just how soulless and drab this world would be without them. I have tried to express myself with both reverence and respect and I can only hope I have achieved either. This last bit I don’t usually do, but for this I feel it is important. To Kym, Anne, Beth, and Jodie this is for you, maybe now you will believe me. Enjoy all, cheers until next time.

This is for all the women in the world, from all of the men who have always thought just this. Maybe now you will believe us, I really hope you do.

You are beautiful, you always have been and will always be
Even when both you and I and even the memory of us
Is less than dust, you will always be
Radiant, perfect in your imperfection,
An emblem crudely scratched in charcoal on cave walls
Painted into soft plaster, supple, leaping over bulls
Enameled into icons and worshipped, sweated, wept and dreamt over,
Pawed by desperate fingers white with marble dust
Smeared with vibrant colors of oil, water, acrylic
Futile attempts to capture the fullness of you will waste mile upon mile of celluloid,
You live in cathedrals, you smile bold and unattainable
From towering billboards for the only fitting background for your beauty
Is light and sky.

Your curves define the universe
Or at least the universe that I inhabit
Your lips are my undoing, one word unravelling me
Would send me on righteous quests, have me starting wars
Or trudging out into thirty below nights to obtain the means to your comfort
Your skin is an ocean to be drowned happily in,
Your fingertips on my brow or resting lightly upon my chest
Riches beyond price of rubies, all that I want can be found
In the least of your sweet smiles bent upon me
Your hair is a falling rain, a banner flaring
Silks meant for something so much more than being crudely fondled by my beggar hands.

There are not enough words in all of the languages man has ever or will
ever conceive, not from the first articulate grunt unto the last
That will ever encompass, will never even touch the hem of your beauty,
All vistas, marvels, wonders of man or nature
Pale at your feet, wither, burn to cinders
Dissolve under the lamp of your beauty
If I speak no more, no other words but only a voice
To all of the power, grace, sublimity you embody in every thought or movement or stillness,
Every utterance my broken throat can cry a hymn to you
It would still be not enough.

I will cry your wonder from the rooftops
Ring all the bells till they crack in joyous cacophony
I will draw you with bloody fingers across the walls of the earth and heavens
Make myself a clear, bright mirror
Just so you can at last see
What would be evident to even those without means to sense, blind, deaf, dumb
That you in mind, in body, in soul and full brightness and grace
Insecure, vulnerable, strong beyond the simple definition of might, defiant, silly, wonderful, unattainable yet still stooping just to grace this poverty with your wealth of being and spirit
All of you, every last crumb and speck of you
Is beautiful in the fullest sense of so simple and poor a word
You are beautiful, you always have been and you always will be.


2 Responses to “The Definition of Insanity”

  1. splendid offering at the start of a new year

  2. This poem is truly felt and therefore will be felt by others. I hope it helps the people you love accept themselves as you see them. Remember also that the people around us are a reflection of ourselves.

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