Mind Rape
by Odin Roark

You led me on a walk down complacency lane,
even as you tried to boil life down to borderline depravity
with inverted pleasures spinning
your windmill of puscasious delirium.

Lashing me to the mast of your storm drenched perversions,
a venal duty of cleansing you called it,
you commanded an army of deception,
awash with the residue of soft-shell Cyclops,
who like needle-eyed centaurs
roiled an eternal molten blitzkrieg
of your brine and slithering lies,
assaulting my simple cell
of gauze shrouded tenuity.

With duplicitous audacity,
you infested my flicker-housed meditations
of Eisenstein, Wells, Fellini, and Godard,
obliterating the sanctity of my inner-sound stage
with the avaricious hum of your locust wings
devouring more, more, and more.

You dared infect my Louvre of life's images
with hallucinogenic hyperbole,
turning my sanctuary into a mustard green madhouse
of singed and scorched wormholes
threatening the nitrate Gurus of my digital archives.

And like those long-tailed monstrous carnivores of long ago,
you demanded why I should disallow your orgiastic frenzy,
why I battled your predatory nature to turn my nourishment
into rancid desserts for you demented palate,
reduce me to a hummingbird locked in the jaws of your Neolithic appetite,
feeding the primeval ooze of your legacy's tar pits?

My Pollack inspired synapses
clung to Sartre-orchestrated lullabies of consciousness
as you threw your consuming fireballs of seductive passion,
eventually resulting in the sunrise of slumber's revolution,
an awakening with a mud honey taste of gelatinous waste.

But that wasn’t enough,
for you decided to inflict graffiti
upon my life cave of hieroglyphs,
my grotto of submerged etchings
my cacophonous echoes of the past.
Only to find the debaucherous priming
of sweet cream on your prepared temptation
spoiled into maggot infested delectos
as the traumatization of my awakening sunk in,
eventuating the final decree in my favor,
handed down by a frenzy-friendly all female jury.

The twelve angry ladies spoke
and your war drums are now muffled,
your insurgency stifled,
your psycho drama now behind the blood-drenched
curtains of yesterday’s final act.

Even as you tried to vandalize the poems of my dreams,
know their redeemed safety is now sequestered in a fervent forever,
for you failed to banish the peace that has become a protective aura,
filling my smiles with delectable savories of the mind.

Beware, if ever again you trumpet an arrival,
the sweep of my lessons learned will disarm you,
rendering vacuous your attempts to once again
violate my mind.