Desire is where the frustration always begins,
Moment of Ego’s unfilled wish….
Hate I’m never in control of the Universe.
It appears so suddenly, this charge of heat,
Denial of passion’s drive to power, to pleasure,
Always hit whatever barrier that exposes me—
Weak and vulnerable to others and the Other.
It fits a pattern, I suppose….
Queen Elizabeth, the “Virgin Queen”,
Wrote a poem reflecting on her own refusals,
Yet wanted love that was refused to her.
Damn, now there goes the fantasy, destroyed,
That at least someone gets whatever they want….
Some say restraint is the underlying gift in this,
Frustration the best instructor of submission,
Even freedom, that always is clothed in costly robes.
Only with torture comes possibility of relief—
Yet another paradox I never sought or wanted.
Prospect of arousal without completion
Leads to naked anger, concentrates the mind on process
With or without conclusion, only invitation and new beginning.