The stillness pregnant
Mystic,
About to burst to pierce,
Ignored.
Yet another two thousand years
Yet another premonition of doom-
Knocking,
At the door of a year new.
The mute steps of evil near, hooded green.
They come: vulpine, lethal, cold-they come…..
The sculptured virgin physique-
Shed its cloak
Why? The lover’s there, there before:
Inside an assailant silent,
About to pounce, to satiate, inject
About to satisfy the raging fire-
To make way for the eyesore.
A whiff of red
On the lady cheeks,
Its tender caress brings.
Its sinister lust builds-
A wreath of sensuousness around.
The wet kiss-
Cuts through her dainty lips,
The pupils enlarge, the tongue falters-
Hankering for more.
The sylph lies….
It-moist, green, sinister-
Makes love to her.
A gentle sadism unleashed on her curves,
Running over undulations,
The region pelvic it gently slaps,
Dome like the bottom, its belly’s slackness feels.
The bare back, scathed with bites of hateful love.
Two physiques tranced into wetness…..
Pulsating, Sweating, kissing…..gasping for breath.
It slips slyly,
Between her legs …….
The bed now a sea becomes
A sea of passions wild;
He like a fallen god – her generously drowns
Sinks, sinks he; sinks she paralyzed.
A tender moan of fulfillment.
At the day break, A Voice calls:
“Woman-
you are but a fool unfortunate.
The bed no longer
Shall the sea of pleasure be
Why? Thorns await it.
A price you are to pay-
Pay for the night of eros
You are soon to breed the seed of
The lover last night-the eyesore…..The son of satan."
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
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