A Warning Shot Poem by John Sensele

To my hands that favour fondling flowers
Imbibing the fragrance in their pristine powers
The magic in their perfumed petals
Go ahead, catalyzing palpitations in mad mortals.

To my heart that frolicks in female feelings
Feeding febrile fantasies floating in sentimental ceilings
The writing is on the wall to quit
Kneading the dough from wanton wishes' wheat.

To my legs that transport me to tempting trysts
Favouring femmes fatales who wring my wrists
Time has come to pick up the gauntlet
To quit drinking madness from a gobbling goblet.

To my arms that long to entwine
Inviting blues from shrouds of the shrine
I'd rather entertain at arms' length
Enable my brain to maintain its plasticity and strength.

To my mind that revels in losing its way
Perambulating in territories far away
From common sense, cut out the trash
Unless you expect my wrath to turn you into ash.