Dancing on the Edge of a Sword

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    Dancing on the Edge of a Sword

    Dancing on the Edge of A Sword
    By Courtney L. Smith


    Death’s fingertips brush the nape of victims’ necks like a gentle breeze.
    They wake up the following morning with uncanny ease.
    They walk along the sidewalk as casually as they please.
    Years will have passed before the host even suspects a disease.

    Adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine are traveling though a bloodstream.
    They attack white-blood cells’ cellular membranes with the ease of a wet dream.
    Those nitrogen bases form the foundation of life-giving DNA.
    Ironically, those same bases that form viruses can easily take life away.

    They go to the nucleus and replicate themselves over and over again.
    When they leave, the cell is destroyed, but they have made many friends.
    Colds, flus, and AIDS appear like houseguests that just won’t leave.
    It’s hard to believe that a disease is sometimes fun to conceive.

    They travel throughout to see how much a person’s blood will provide.
    Within the blink of an eye, thousands of white cells will have already died.
    They weaken the immune system without a second thought.
    People think they are having fun, but a death certificate is what they just bought.

    They were moving as fluidly as water before they notice they are sick.
    Now, they are flowing like molasses, and they are as stiff as a brick.
    People keep troublemakers out of their home because they have insight and they’re smart.
    However, trouble has a welcome mat if they don’t use condoms before lives fall apart.

    It is like wrapping and constricting a person’s throat with an extension cord.
    That is what someone is doing when they are dancing on the edge of a sword.
    Adulterous people call themselves lovers, but no love is usually involved.
    They ascend into orgasmic pleasure only to discover their bliss will quickly dissolve.

    A man glances at a woman’s curves and has ecstasy on his mind.
    He imagines droves of pleasure as his eyes peruse her behind.
    The lust is strong and he allows the feeling to linger.
    It really does not matter to him to see a ring on her finger.

    The woman looks for something new because her betrothed isn’t on the job.
    It makes no difference to either one that matrimony and sanctity is being robbed.
    She starts by glancing at his shoes, and so far the view is looking great.
    His eyes takes in her alluring curves and contemplates a way to penetrate.

    Their eyes suddenly lock onto one another and their intent is revealed.
    Their passion for the moment makes them oblivious to the risk of getting killed.
    They exchange compliments and suggestive intentions and leave when it gets late.
    Most already know, by the end of the day, that they have already set a discreet date.

    When the time comes for them to carry out the deed, they look all around.
    They look everywhere for Joey Greco because they do not want to be found.
    They use rental vehicles, discreet locations, and list reservations under an alias name.
    Despite the risk they are taking, they love the thrill of their dangerous game.

    They slip into the room of the designated location and nearly tear up the place.
    Her perfume is making his blood rush all over as he stares at her beautiful face.
    His chiseled chest and built arms are making her legs quiver.
    His lower body and its sculpted power make her spine shiver.

    The more she moves; the more he wants to ravage her like a beast.
    The bottom line is they are aroused and they are willing partners to say the least.
    They indulge in one another and sweat saturates their skin.
    All of those things occur before he even gets in.

    They taste the sweet forbidden fruit and they are enjoying their treat.
    They feel if sex were nutritious, they would never have to eat.
    The pinnacle is coming closer as he traverses inevitable sweet release.
    However, the magic is interrupted because the man is deceased.

    The woman looks up into her dead lover’s eyes.
    Then, she stares behind him to see another unpleasant surprise.
    Fear captures her mind and what she sees makes her gag and choke.
    She sees her husband’s enraged eyes mildly obscured by pistol smoke.

    She looks around the room, but there is no where to hide.
    She sees his love and respect for her has already died.
    She pleads with him to forgive her so her life could be saved.
    One month later, a headstone was set up with her name on the grave.

    No one should try to cross over high places on a thin, brittle, and weak board.
    Otherwise, they might be dancing on the edge of a sword.
    People constantly play with their lives and challenge Death, only God knows why.
    He has more stealth than a ninja and surpasses the cunning of a samurai.

    He is the greatest of all warriors and won every battle that was ever known.
    The only One to ever defeat him sits on The Heavenly Throne.
    One by one the living has fallen to this opponent, never rising again.
    Many are lost: mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and the best of friends.

    He is the ultimate swordsman; and his blade gets sharper everyday.
    He has never missed a target that has ever come his way.
    He is the greatest fighter of all time, yet his martial art has no name.
    However, his skill, cunning, and tactics put Green Berets and Navy Seals to shame.
    No bullet has shot him. No arrow has ever pierced him. A bomb never laid him to waste.
    However, his enemies are destroyed, (sometimes) left in one piece, or smeared into filthy red paste.

    After every fight he has gotten into, he makes the body of his opponent drop.
    He does not have to lift a finger to make someone’s heart completely stop.
    Anyone that seeks a thrill should not risk their life simply because they are bored.
    Otherwise, they might be dancing on the edge of a sword.

    Lives are lost exponentially on a daily basis.
    The news is filled with missing and murdered faces.
    One minor scuffle can easily become a struggle to the death.
    It can begin as a friendly game and end with someone drawing a last breath.

    The fight does not even have to start over something significant or profound.
    The conflict can actually be spurred by a rumor that is spreading around.
    One misconception can turn someone’s world upside down.
    The rumor may be false and still buries someone underground.

    Pistols are drawn and bullets are fired. Blood covers the lawn. Justice has expired!
    The same vicious cycle keeps repeating itself.
    No matter how many have fallen before, fools line up to place their life on the shelf.

    If someone looks good, and you want to take them home,
    They better not have a spouse at the house; otherwise, leave their ass alone!
    Someone may have the finest body that you have seen to date.
    But you better use a condom; otherwise, that orgasm may leave you on a slate.

    Don’t throw your life away on foolishness. If you die, at least die for a worthy cause.
    If you sacrifice yourself, make sure that it is noble enough for the living to take pause.
    Death has many dance partners and he is taking score.
    Nevertheless, when the party has ended, none of his companions leave the floor.

    Don’t wait until you are lying in a pool of your own blood to shout, “Oh Lord!”
    If you do not choose your paths carefully, you may be dancing on the edge of a sword.

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    castlemist commented on Dancing on the Edge of a Sword

    05-29-2009

    Hi Courtney, Wow dude...that's a pretty wild poem. I really like your imagery and hope to see more of your work. Jerry

    Aggravated

    07/13/2009

    Thank you. I will return the favor.

    Metaldoll commented on Dancing on the Edge of a Sword

    03-02-2009

    Good.But sometimes the less words u use, the more you seem to say. just something to consider, my friend.

    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

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