The Guilt And The Pain Of The Tiny Flesh Poem by RIC BASTASA

the flesh will always have
its own way of
giving you guilt, there is
always that accompanying
pain with
slow and gentle pleasure
the pressure
to transcend its shallowness
however the
necessity of its warmth
and hair and
surface
you take it and learn
that art of having to rub life
with death
no words are uttered
on some
deaths that beat inside
our hearts somehow there
is something that
diminishes us
after
something that spreads us
like a dirty linen
against the almighty
sun
but the need is always
there
which without out
it
we shall wither
and crumple like
brown leaves without
dew
on cracked
soil

as i told you this is
the pendulum of
compromises of
plea bargainings

we take sometimes
the necessity of having
to plea guilty
on the lesser liabilities
of some
tiny flesh which
however deep we
are we by default
take the option of the
fools
and facing another
stupid being
we give them
a straight face of
i was there and
you have no right
to judge me
you have no
scar.