Cupid's Born On Fire Poem by Osiris Rex

Cupid, O naughty boy who some do loathe. I pluck your rose and love you more than women, then the good minute goes. Like nothing human, O Cupid, but the fairest of winged species. Had we the wings many of us would take flight. We live in a generation where Cupid is considered a religion. Cupid spreads his charms, but charm not all alike, on different senses different objects strike. For every cupid let there be ecstasy, let us not be lonely. Drowning in love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest. Love's too precious to be lost, a little blood shall not be spilt. Wisdom was a woman that loved sonnets and serenades. Our magic syllables melt away, our bodies lay nude along the seashore, since this morning it is with a vocabulary made wholesomely profane, open in lexicons for our foes to translate that we endeavor each in his idiom to express the true magnolia.

Oh, poor me, I must both write and love. Oh hope of mine whose eyes are living love, no eyes but hers, oh love and hope be the same to me. The angel that we wrestle is ourselves. To my love add love. My love and I did walk together and sweet were the words she said to me. The delicate day of love we two share. To love her is far more cruel than to hate. The gnomes stop stealing and convert their religion into flowers. While the dove has brought us an olive branch to eat. I have felt the pull of her desire. Oh, come, come closer, come and touch, come nearer, be flesh to my flesh. Come down, O Cupid, come down, down. When love is flowering, logic will not do. A man and a woman, and an arrow on a string. It is Cupid who weighs nothing, so that the fat dreamer himself can fly without wings. O wings, can our wings match the weight of him!

Tell me, is the product holy? Is that the genuine buzz of cherubim, the winged goods? What of romance planned by the body unconscious? What are all these kisses worth, if you kiss me not? Shall my flame count flesh one life too long? First love, first friendship, equal powers married to hot virgin blood. Worship lovers, who teach us love, youth and poets who live forever in the darkness of the full moon. What wild dawn there were in our young years when we would run outside nude. Remember when we wrote romantic school girl notes in our youth? To utter love more sweeter than praise. I felt the pangs of cupid's naughty darts then. Desiring nothing but how to kill desire. We will conquer cupid with our own desire. Burn in Cupid's flame, but burn alive!

We shall discover how to be human which is the reason why we follow the stars and meteors. To love another adds to the confusion. The song of mercy is the Devil's waltz. Not to have fire is to be lost. I am the arrow! Cupid's born on fire. Of sages and of bards. A brief eclipse. There was one teacher who taught their students love. A dancer might well study for years and never learn. We shall learn what love alone can teach. Love is the cause, and only love can be the effect. The holy centaurs of the ancient forest have vanished. The huge rose symbol of high romance. Fire, is the symbol, the celestial possible. Blaze like meteors and be divine. We danced the dance of all dances until dawn came, enchanted with the black Bohemia of myth, where knowledge of flesh can take guilt of being born away. A poet's flesh makes one eternal chastity. Dance with us romantics, dance.