Face In The Porridge Poem by Melvina Germain

Half witted beast be thou forgotten, cast in the spiraling circumference of infinite churns. Your belly rolls while your blood boils. Thy will be done one might ponder in a fading moment entrenched with gutless thoughts.

A bottle of wine, a flask of whiskey, several sips of rum perhaps. Wilt thou now be back in the ruby waters dining with the sharks again. I dare say, the whales with their fat bellies will come sauntering in.

A mish mash of glutton ism splattered all over thy Queen's carpet, oh glory be. thy slobs burn the midnight oil with characters bent and frowned upon. Money speaks as the flapping of lips grow silent, I beg you...forgive me sire. I beg your pardon sire, but I do believe you're drooling, cigar too big for your mouth perhaps sir. Tst Tst Tst don't be a baby now...running away like the wind.

Must have been something I said, never seen a jolly jumping man run so fast. Oh look, green trailing all over the floor, falling from his undergarments. Overflowing with the joy sought by misguided fools, the so called fair maiden who dance the jig and smile with burning lips. Giggles and more giggles, high pitched sound ouus and awws, foolish sluts showing off their black net stockings.

Have your fancy sir, which one shall it be, lined up against the wall, a cattle call to be sure. Flash your green, make your scene as actors do. Show a wee bit of empathy, but truly who cares, it's just meat for a night after all. An orgy one may nere forget but the bountiful flesh may soon find reason to regret.

Playing with the big boys on their turf can be somewhat demeaning. As you meander through the evening you realize your once unstained character has reduced itself to nothing but a mere whore, you are a tramp my dear. A beautiful, well dressed, groomed and spot free, but yet still a tramp. You wear the title well my dear.

Oh dear, here comes the fat dude in a monkey suit, smiling as he drools out of the corner of his mouth sporting a huge cigar. Reaching out for your hand and you ablidge him indeed you do. He wisps you off to a silent corner, where he fondles your breasts, wanting a taste of your silken flesh and you do ablidge once again. Oh but words are mulling about in your mind and you recall the
warning of the old women during afternoon tea. 'Be careful what you wish for'.

Oh yes I recall, you wanted to dine with the best, wear fancy clothes, drive in Cadillac cars. Well my darling here you are with all that and more, you see one forgot there is a price to be paid and the price in you darling. As this old slob puts his hand under your dress groping at your thighs, you wonder, is it worth all this, how do I get out of here.

Oh dear, you do try to get away from him, but he plants a huge wet kiss upon your lips and you think you're going to throw up but you do manage to contain

yourself. You did this, put yourself in this position, now you can't get out. He has his way with you and you feel like the scum of the earth. You wanted the finery but you had no idea what might come with it. He says, your his lady now, you belong to him and he sports you all over town.

Yes you dripping in jewels, driving fancy cars. The lifestyle is becoming rather comfortable and you close your eyes and dream of young, vibrant men when Mr Ugly has his way with you in the dark of eve. Washed with the timbers of fire, you have met your desire but he was a little disheveled and not quite what your dream presented. Never the less, money holds the ticket. It's almost as if your face was held in the porridge for too long and when you came up for air, your knight in shining armor had disappeared.

Perhaps, you'll leave him one day in search of real love, but for now dipping into the vat of security, glowing with emerald green, you have decided you can be his Queen. Oh I do declare, you have become the Queen of sluts, have you not. What's to become of you....what is to become of you my dear.....

Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Feb.27/2012