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Poetry Magnum Opus

The Eternal Love of Women [R]


dedalus
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Yes, I know they are not all drop-dead beautiful

but we can imagine that they are, help them along,

and from the imagination springs the seeds of truth:

even the most ghastly girl is a Marilyn in her mind.

 

Leaving the marginals aside for the moment,

gaze adoringly on the madly wonderful remainder.

They dress so well. They smell so good. They look so fine.

No wonder they do our silly fuckin heads in.

 

It’s like they want us to … ahhh … without touching.

Looking, looking ... well, looking is eternally free,

and there’s an awful lot of nice things to look at.

Their springy walks, short dresses, the sidelong glances.

 

Every day when you go into town you see 3-400 women

and you want to, well, try it on with about twenty.

There was this girl in a shiny blue mini earlier today

and I followed her from the bus up the escalator.

 

She grabbed her skirt and stared down daggers at me:

God, they are so so aware of our attention and intentions!

Too bad she turned back, she was right fuckin ugly,

such a tantalising prospect (Oooh) from the rear.

 

Mother Nature is relentless: she never lets you go

until you are old and toothless and gaga and even then,

a flip of a skirt, a wicked eye, the casually unbuttoned blouse

gets you going all over again. It’s not bloody fair!

 

Nothing’s ever been fair about it. The girls want us, the boys,

on their own terms. They make their own precious decisions:

you can be in heaven today and slapped up in jail tomorrow

because your little ickle sweetheart changed her mind.

 

Men are control freaks, yes, I know that.

Moslems put them in headscarfs and hijabs

(Afghani girls have these tinkly tinkly ankle bracelets)

as if to accentuate frustrated sexual obsessions.

 

The Chinese forced young girls to maim their feet,

Africans jam on rings to extend young women’s necks.

Victorians ladies wore bustles to accentuate their forbidden arses,

girls after the Great War tried to look like breastless boys.

 

In the West, now, we rip off all their clothes, do Page Threes,

encourage silicone boob jobs, do a lot of heavy panting,

then abruptly slap people into prison for sexual harrassment

like nudging shoving penguins on the edge of an ice floe.

 

It’s just so repressively stupid. We want to … engage … a few times,

men and women, before we die, not just hormonal teenagers,

but people in their 30s and 40s and 50s and 60s and 70s and …

however long you can keep the damn thing going!

 

This thing called physical love.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

This is sarcasm and not meant to be vindictive or spiteful but a joke. Maybe a female could make me laugh with her vernacular verbatim barrage of words.

 

So many angels, so many perspectives, and so many trillions of fish to shop for at the seaside inn aye but yet nothing interests us other than to play with her assets like a toy yoyo? I will tell you this a female that writes poetical yearning for my meat in her words tickles my fancy is more ah stunning then a young nymph who only wants you to eat her fishy delicatessen clad based dish but hoots like an owl she thinks acting like an ass or work mule instead deceiving you in a skirt that shows her muff and doesn't want to drink your finest wine you held in stock like your hunting rifle ammo you held in high esteem stock just for her though so she doesn’t remember how lousy she was with your sack of potatoes the night before and comes back when you know you shot a blank at her that night in the hot tub of your bank account lavishing her with ho to wear nothing for you but the lard she thinks is her truth yet you desire to bathe in her the flowers of aroma instead of the rag she looks like that foul odor and then out of the blue nine months later looking like she gained a ton or two she tells you’re your unleavened bread is baking in her oven the same difference yet we search till we find a clone that desires the same fish and sausages we desire. Ironically I am laughing out loud. And the ones that have large rectums watch out for they only want your sausage in there poop so they can taste smelly fertilizer in there wine and ant you to eat the honey muffins with your salty discourse in their sea of eggs LOL. Plus the salty discourse we put in them is good for their bodies medically. So methinks sexual conduct is needed in females to sustain their lives.

 

What you wrote is entertaining witty sarcasm at its best here amigo,

victor

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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