Curves drafted wrong,
For all the reasons right,
Sagging flat or layered bare,
Snagged in the lashes of the groping eyes,
Venus's brightness ordered banished to the darkness,
Sweating like the candle to warm needy hands,
The covert theatre of flesh to flash blind the madness,
She covered herself behind their primitive beards,
While the rib-losers debated her genesis on the frontlines,
The holy grail touched and probed for its sacredness,
The decanter shattered, consoled by the moon,
The crimson nectar flowed between her trembling legs,
The home signal for her intact hood,
Appeasing the famished seraphic hyenas,
The bone of my bone, the flesh of my flesh,
Sneered the first male, leashing her with his hair,
The fundamentals preached by the men written words of God,
Lording over his sheep and her with his illusioned temerity,
From the divine ridicule to let the birther born from the borne.
★★★★★
Thoughts?
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Nefelibata- The rants of a cloud-walker
PoetryA restless logophile's logbook of rants. 🗣 When words and visuals pound my head I seek my hero/fountain pen to lasso them down on a paper. 📓✍ But when life gives me wattpad, I might as well type them out to share with you all readers. 🤷♀️❤ Star...
