Vent Poem by Chris Jibero

Idea,
Insight,
Perception,
Inspiration,
Motivation,
Or just some madness?
I know not which
But it's intense
Alive and dense
And like a benign deluge
Comes it to irrigate an arid
Heart harrowed for dry season
Planting and inundates the field
Of my waiting heart
Shutting off every other desire
Even thirst and hunger
As the urge to write is ignited
Like an addict's desperate desire
For a shot to remain stable
As knowledge gathers for planting

A tap dispensing pure water
That begs to be fetched in toto
To avoid all manner of waste
And every dropp that deposits
In the receptacle of my willing heart
Glitters as a beautiful pool
But evaporates like spirit
If not quickly fetched

Intermittently it bombards me
Without notice in solemn
Visitations like wave
Eager to make love with the sea shore
At will and in total submission
Like a virtuous woman
Throw I apart the receptive
Legs of my heart
Bended by great foreplay
And capitulate everywhere
While working
While walking
While playing
While driving
While eating
While shopping
While discussing
While using the loo
While worshiping
Even while worshiping
At the altar of regeneration
For everywhere
Is my table, my pen and my paper
Ever available and ready

The orgasm you graciously confer
Makes me
Talk alone
Laugh alone
Hum alone
Shout alone
Sing alone
Mourn alone
Rejoice alone
Imprison myself in a one man jail
Without visitations and recreations
And wake in the middle of the night
To light my candle to jot down messages
Sometimes shredded in maddening anger
Paper littered everywhere
As in a mad man's lair

Some madness?
But you give me no ranting
With uncoordinated speech
Nor murmuring its spouse
But elevated and heavenly language
Like a tongue-speaking believer
Free of empty babbling
For only wisdom is dispensed
From this fountain founded
For those appointed
To drink from the everlasting
Vent of life

The crowd I follow not
But my spirit and conviction
And the steps of my sight
I follow not
But the voice of my heart
Maybe I am a fool
Maybe I am mad
Maybe I am like all prophets
Not celebrated at home
But one thing I do know
Is that the madness
Called writing has nothing
To do with much learning
That tends towards madness.


(C) Chris Jibero.2010.