Women Are Fresh Fruit For The Picking... Poem by Chuy Amante

Women are fresh fruit for the
picking,
licking,
sticking on a pedestal?
Ultra cool
divine mind,
to be our refiner
fine, we are but a coal miner
diamonds shining
like the moon,
we swoon
at
all she is, YOU ARE!
Give me your mind
that is an intelligent heart
teaching, reaching to lowly
dark stars, paint me your art!

fix us!
ok if she kicks us,
knock sense into our desiring brains,
beat us up
from our root chakra up into the heart,
raw huh? .

Help us feel the way,
tuck genitals away
with the wind sway
and say,
"Stay? "