Steppenwolf *A Poem by Thomas Emile VaughenInspired by the novel Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse
I long for the rooms of corrupting opulence, inhabited by the daring creatures of the night.
Renouncing my humanity for just one evening - like a Steppenwolf. How the doves with dancing breasts will beat their wings, wafting away all inhibitions. At the mercy of an angel's caress - oh how they deal in dishing out their worldy pleasures. The seducers of Egypt and Rome, their Nile tongues lapping up the Pyramids. How a part of me couldn't care if their hips are ripe and round, a sun disc falling to the ground. * We are in the dungeon of our dear Hermine. I hear jazz, transient and passing, playing from the horns of Latin men whose feet sit shallow, only dipping in the pool of artistic merit. Greater Gods, Goethe, Mozart, I can still hear them somewhere as I capitulate and dance, dance, dance. There are cocktails that stir the blood and there's the liberating rush of Opium. Ruin every last drop of me. * Right now I have forgotten Church choirs and innocent boys in garments of white... the pursuits of academia and trying to outwit those cultivators of our collective knowledge - which, by the way, doesn't seem to have prevented wars or woe. I will not contribute. I will not partake. Because in this den of sin, they love me for the fur on my back and the fangs in my mouth.
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1 Review Added on November 25, 2019 Last Updated on December 21, 2019 AuthorThomas Emile VaughenFloating around the north of England, United KingdomAboutSometimes I make myself a coffee, pop on the internet and write stuff. Read at your *peril*. Can be found on Substack [https://thomasemilevaughen.substack.com] or Bluesky [@cperil.bsky.soci.. more.. |

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