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Phantoms Women and Love

William J. Jr. Atfield Avatar William J. Jr. Atfield - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

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Phantoms Women and Love


Phantoms, nightly steeds, flared nostrils all aflame 
with their steely hooves thundering on my brain, as they came, 
these apparitions shrouded in blackness, to carry me off, conscious, 
into the darkness, into the mystery of the subconscious, 
they came to light the fires within, and within my soul, 
to shed light upon the darkness, for me to see, to know 
just how far to go, just how far one can go, 
is what these phantoms, nightly steeds, want to show.

B. J. “A” 2
March 26th 2002

Women and Love

Even when it is lavished upon their fragile, fractured hearts, 
their desperately searching, lost souls, their buried spirits.
Some women - with sex – are reaching out for security, financial gain,
for some, it is playing a game, reaching for the ladder they see,
reaching for material things they can touch, some out of fear,
some for a future that will take them passed their past,
some out of anger for that past, some out of spite,
some for revenge upon the unknown, 
out from the subconscious, some, 
just for the passion. 
Many – I do Believe – by the hands of Mother Nature, 
from the pure essence of purely biological needs.
Many of the reasons for a woman making love, having sex, just ****ing
are buried deep within the psyche, the subconscious, of which, 
most no nothing about and likely never will understand the mystery.
For those who do know ?, understand ?, little or nothing will change !,
as does, with those who live in ignorant, blind, bliss, for the patterns
form a lifetime rut, most remain the same, habit, ritual the game.
And so, for the self-destructive, the destructive nature, they doth permeate  
the heart and soul,  permeating the very essence of every relationship,
regardless of how shallow or deep, how meaningless or meaningful.
And so, are the reasons for woman
( let us not exclude men from the analyses, the meaning, 
the understanding of human nature as stated above )
to be many colours of butterfly wings ?,
shades of gray ?, or be the blackness of the whole ?
That journey, for them, most of us will never know !,
for we, after all, are not but human beings, 
products of our life’s journey, our life’s experiences,
our nature and our nurturing, our life’s march
through history, times past, present and future.
In their passing, in the here and now, in what is to come ?,
some of us have been most privileged to have tasted pieces,
moments of it all, and understood, and in that,
have come to know some of what it is that makes a woman
come and go, as the seasons, seasons with reasons untold.
Sometimes, even if we ( men ) cannot understand, only see
the unreasonableness that fills the air, our eyes, our minds
and our thoughts, we still climb aboard that ride,
that roller coaster turmoil, that is laid before us.
Leaving the mental anguish, the emotional whirlpool behind,
letting the intellectual analysis go, in lieu of the purely physical, 
is where my thoughts now take me, with my experience, my words
that will bring this monolog to a logical conclusion
To have “ tasted the pieces ” !, what a journey !, for one’s mind,
even as one suffered the searing pains of being burned by the
flames of a troubled mind, yet to have tasted, to have felt 
– not in mind but in reality – the “ fire down below”,
what a thing to have experienced, to have come to know,
that electrifying heat from the flames down below,
as they galvanized one’s manhood, and in unison,
in harmony one’s manhood electrifies,
sets aflame the motherhood in her.

B. J. “A ” 2
March 27th 2002

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