Monday, 23 February 2015

~ They call Her … ~

~ They call Her … ~
Smiling feline,
Dangerous un-kohl-ed eyes,
Her ripened body ever-ready to be suckled on …
Arms inviting to play,
Later to gluttonize and slay
Embrace … drawing in and hushing for a while
Drugging, doping, those indecorous expressions,
Silent, arcane, honed over the years
Stealthily moving in the hustling throng
Snaking craftily through the sinuous alleyways …
Hidden from the masses,
Marijuana of the classes
She is the lady, my mistress,
The woman of the taste
Addicted to the compelling smell of manly sweat,
Over the posh abruptness of any suave heady scent
Silk of her splendid tinseled gown slithering,
Rousing the hard tan leather of hand-stitched shoes,
Carving the craved way,
To the blue gratification room …
Where she once was brought by the one,
She had demanded for love, so wrong,
Where fondled and nicked was her bosom,
Soul scratched till the bottom,
Nickel and dimed was her nubile body, so young
Where she became prey to the hunger of ever-hungry race
And she was left only unloved, bare, and eternally sore …
Would she still care what they name her now?
Stacking away the tattered tapestry,
Loaded with finery, and elegance her style,
She is plainly staging her payback role!


  1. what once stole her life...has become her tool for taking their hearts...and destroying them....