(poetry page 5)
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The Darkness Within
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Light...
Night...
What is one without the other?
If we did not have the dark, by what measure could we define the light?
But between these domains lies the blurred line where the two meet to become one and remain two. I is on that line that most of us walk our lives.
Whether we chose to accept it or not - is totally irrelevant.
The universe just doesn't give a damn. It just is.
- Patryn68
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Live a Life : Part One
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The blood was spilt,
Quicker than the eye could
Follow - or the mind could register;
In full gory rich-red seductive
Detail - in single drip with an
Incalculable weight - immeasurable
By science or reason and with
More warmth than a soothing lover's heat.
I thought of wombs and wanton fetuses,
Of lowlights and headlights -
Above the crowd and behind the stands,
In dirty little rendezvous,
And close necessary heated encounters
With parents nearby and lovers even closer.
A single drop of red.
Surely no colour so rich could possibly be mixed?
To drip the months away in
Great red torrents or shy sporadic showers,
To love the birth and accept the blood.
To anoint the tip of me,
Before gratefully sinking deep and losing myself
Soulfully within my womb of pleasure.
Taking me back to heavenly days
Of sweat trickling down straining backs
And pooling in the shallow hollows,
As moans cause groans cause
Ripples in every fiber of
endorphin-adrenaline fused vessels.
Take me - want me - birth me - touch me.
Born to this,
To beat and be beaten alike.
I love the drama and soon I may even live a life.
- Patryn68
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Live a Life : Part Two
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Fruits of labour - they say - they preach.
Listening to the lessons they belabour and teach,
The young in their restless stares,
Perched from the precarious height of rocking chairs.
"I don't want it anymore,
The plans you have in store.
The things you once wished,
The tasks you left unfinished,
I have my own,
to reap what I've sown,
and culture that I've grown,
my own little future to hone."
His heart dies,
And spirit sighs.
Racing through his life,
Experiencing the elation in strife.
Tiring of trying to please,
Everyone in their unique, uncanny fusion.
- Patryn68
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