Sestina Exercise (Sept.2015)

Life always finds a way to snatch
my treasures to make me below and curse
into the raging tumults
To below and curse at the thought of a woman
I can feel hands shifting the clouds; they belong to nature
and their tips are crisp and concrete coarse

I'm a bellowing broken boy running life's course
yanking my trachea out of my throat and extending it into the open air so I can barely snatch
oxygen to sustain what is so easily tarnished by nature
If my lungs permitted I'd curse
If I could hop the rigid roadblocks I'd recline in the thought of a woman
I'd quit running through the white noise of the wind and organic tumult
 
Amid my mental tumult
all my fingers feel coarse
By no means are these the tools with which I wish to caress a woman
but what am I to do when life snatches
me from my volition. Don't worry I didn't swear I never curse
I just yielded to nature. 
 
It's not in nature's nature
to just wipe the sky clean and bereft of tumult
There's a curse lurking in orbit with the earth
and it runs a rampant course
It runs alongside you and I and just when you think you can snatch
it away it manifest in the form of a woman
 
I've chased this curse of a woman
and her eyes glow stronger than the most azure berries found in nature
I always thought one day I could snatch
the root of my incessant tumult
but it'll always be an empty course
and she'll always be a running curse
 
Life'll always have a running curse
but sometimes you'll get to embrace and feel the tingling warmth of a woman
There are water breaks and cheering fans on the sidelines of the course
Amid the dark dense dismal clouds of nature
and all of its cruel tumult
you'll feel glimmers of light, even if it be just a snatch.