By Tony DeLorger © 2014
Effortlessly I plunder the rampant desires of power and flesh,
that brews within the dark side of a soul, the tempest abated,
pushing aside what guides that demon to a persistent course,
and in denial, the gifts of disparagement, standing on higher ground.
But that blood fevered reckless heart writhes within,
in the grit of life and lascivious thundering,
beating time to primordial gratification and ruthless hedonism,
brandishing steel and boiled to febrile abandon.
The animal rests in silent wait,
pulsating and swollen in greed and want,
a mind in disdain of all it is, shudders, quivers,
and beats this embryonic fantasy to a bloody withdrawal.
And still the flushed red angst of the succubus,
groans with pleasured frenzy, carnal impropriety,
begging release from a mind intent on some paradigm of innocence,
a lie of substance and the abuse of all that rose from the ooze.
The howling swine pushes forward,
toying with the grace of thought and moral servitude,
malevolent and soulless, the beast grasps every nerve,
impaling kindness with the cold razor blade of ambivalence,
writhing in rhythm with the beating heart... building, inspiring.
The weight of lustful lies is great, uninhibited, brash,
and thoughts diminish into the flow of pounding blood,
muscles tensed and backs arched in painful, exquisite bliss,
rivers flowing, pouring into the world of ravenous rapture.
Here, midst the excruciation of non-release,
a body follows where minds refuse,
and in that moment of inevitable release,
the heart dies just a little, savaged by that demon.
And in that silent, primordial pool, life squirms relentlessly,
seeking favour, a pathway of resurrection,
and the body lays prostrate, motionless,
lost to the will of a darkness mind, deep in the fabric of beginnings.