LADIES
After I listen to the Holy Spirit's whispered name,
I open my book, and compose anew:
And my soul is immersed in a hardy brew.
I am engulfed in every aspect of grace, form and the narrow lane.
For order and measure, meter, words and rhyme
Are what I hear when cathedral bells chime.
But my verse is torn by a sudden, hungry breeze,
And ferries to the endless, billowing ocean,
Near the female rupture of the willow trees.
It is taken by this maiden whose maw is insatiable - orgasmicaly red.
She becomes naught but thunder and emotion,
Whose passion is violent, inviting the dead.
Then still a more potent, furious hue
Possesses her heart- all fiery, baneful, hot and blue;
The Eve in her lust becomes all aflame.
Her clutches transform into a wanton gale: -
Which discards the sun, and makes the moonlight pale.
She rejects true love as the hobby of a fool.
And the specious cadence of her spoken bliss
Betrays her urge for an unlawful kiss,
Clasping with the licentious grip of her tool.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ