Phantom's Lady - my new favourite amongst the self-compositions

Po(t)et's Precuation; the serious part; I have been writing these very personal poems lately, and here comes yet another one. Maybe there's some subconscious frustration that needs to be let out...I really dunno...readers are, anyway, urged to bear in mind the vulnerability with which one publishes such writings as the one below, and what they matter to the one who has produced them - and finally, with what efforts this (and others) was produced. In fact, all poetry should be read accordingly. This particular poem, moreover, deals also with the struggles of somebody else, but "entering" what I imagined to might have been his thoughts and feelings was a great big personal challenge indeed. I spotted this picture of him in the local newspaper on Saturday and started off from there.

Complete context; the not-so-serious-but-quite-serious-afterall-part; for almost 3 long years I have been hopelessly devoted to a guy with a burr and a mask and a passion for scaring the living daylights out of darling young sopranos. Then, after she and just about everyone else had completely fallen under his spell, happily and joyfully so, though crying their hearts out while still in the theatre and such, this Charming Scot went and did "Dear Frankie" which made him not the least bit less adorable; and it made loving him even harder, cause he's so so so far away and unattainable. Unfortunately.

And well. Gerry in three words; georgeos, talented, charismatic. He is, of course, in addition intelligent, brilliant, sophisticated, brave, stylish, mysterious, funny, even hilarious, a fantastic singer, a fantastic, eh, fantastic-in-general, plus - of what Emmy and Angelina know and the rest of us would like to know - kissing him probably feels divine. Thence, we journey on, and may he PLEASE bump into me in the street some day very soon! "Gerry I looooove you..." Ok, scared now. Both him and (possibly) others. But Fandom is hardship, that's for sure!

And - first - just to put you in the right mood...
an atmospheric idea!



"The Phantom's Lady" (Another one for G.!) -
the story, as seen from a masked man's perspective
By Scaramouche, the po(t)et

PART 1, extrovert

look here! a rose - for you, my love
for you are sweet
betwixt my sheets

the devil's voice men could not hear
but *yours* - did I
sweet face I, never, saw but pictured
alas

the danger's presence men should not fear
nor *you* - but I,
I waited far too long, in darkness
I could not see

the demon's skin men would not touch
nor *yours* - did I
sweet lips I, not, caressed
but - he!

he craved,
he owns you not!
and nor do I,

your beauty I beheld for just one night
yet you are mine
my
Phantom's lady

the Phantom's eyes,
they fill,
he cries
over, and for,
a teacher
that was you

yet so untrue
to him;
the Phantom's words -
afraid were you!
afraid to love, and yet
can I help loving you?

PART 2, introvert

I know not love in other forms than this,
than yours! thus, ours!

and though it may be whispered
there is but one for me to love
oh must I sing
my tornment is my music,
salvation comes not with
a soothing string to slowly twang,
the jerky waltz; piano keys
or muttered humming
as I do play, though
I'm by no means a child

A dragon's eye to watch
the man within the dragon's keep
in here, my lair, oh how I thee abhor
I must!
my tornment in my music, and then there's you
you were my music too!
my music took its flight, by you
it grew, took form, all thanks
to one, whom I adored
however strong
forgot me while you slept
and thus
forgive me when you sleep!

you were my mind, my universe,
and every inch of my unholy soul,
can you not understand?
the tortured one will not be free
yet sweet your tornment is to me!
seduced by fate, seducted by a nightmare,
could not be dreamt as real, or fathomed
I promised you, I tempted you, I cherished you,
enticed you here, my yearnings bottomless,
and yet

It means too little, say the wise
oh no - it means too much!

PART 3, extrinisc/inverted

mend my heart - works not!
it fixes nothing but a pure
placebo-effect on my insides
and they're still broken
my body built itself
upon your presence, my
existence only calmed by you,
dependent, too, upon
your song - which is the key;
the notes, the keys, my images

your life a stage, I put you there!
you dance before the phantom's inner sight
this lady of the night
a morning comes, curtains withdraw
the ancient sounds; portcullis rising
my doom, my grotto into view
there is no time,
yet time is all I have!
your absence - sickening,
I've lived through much, but it means not
that I recall with ease

my love, my only love
my love left me a ring and untold memories
my love is gone, her imprint on my walls
my love was pure, so true, unique
my love was me, and I; a slave
it left me in its wake destroyed

you left me, with a wave
destroyed
my love, my only love, my choice
and such impossible a choice!
a glance;
perchance - a *second* chance
but she cannot look back,
yet I am sure there's knowledge
it was worth it; to be all I have
and to be all I'll ever be
even more than I, myself, yes
she's a bigger part of me
and - I - I guide her so

look here! a rose
for you, my love
a token, of my love
for you; my love

my Phantom's Lady