she's not like other girls... her world of words
so enticing as to
awaken me… from the deep, deep slumber of my sleep
her verbal ways… are so inviting... her prose so… decisively phrased

so excitingly placed and poised
line by line… to pause… only in the intellectually explicit…
sexual is the erotic content in the liturgy of her ritual deeds
thus scented with an incense seep… that I call… poetry… her
flow of prose… made within the handy reach
of the peripheral visions of her… each and every frame of mind

spilling into mine as a chilling a verse... of such deliciousness…
so delighting as is… the very thought of her.
dressed in the robes of purple… and strobe lights
she….in all her illicitness... the spit of… oh so tasty’s... fiery spirit... the insert
of a few curses in the gap between her teeth
her speech perched in the split of her… luscious lips... the

kisses of her of crimson is... this… oh so blissfully sweet.
and indeed She is to me my little harlot…. my Scarlet Woman
who with this… oh so nasty... mastery… of the grip…
the tightening of her lips and wiry fingers’ kneads… she working… so
untiringly in the stoking … and the poking
and the prodding and her pouting… round the hot embers
of the open mic of me…

in spoken word… she the… oh so… everlasting and seductive
demand of my understanding
in the lyrical… suck of such
and such an opening… leaks the ink of erotic think… of she
the… flowing ‘round the floating pen of
my conundrums… of the rhythmic ...drums set… to the… oh
so... sticky beat of me.

she is the... jack off of and spill of the plied mouth rock… the reply that
keeps me forever hard… in the ever loving flip of sing of song
patterns… the tattered strip of the wig from me …
she is the gift… with the whip of hips of oh so… tricky see?... so…honestly... and
truthfully... I must admit it that it takes a truly special kind of one for me, I think... to
even make me crazy like this

to say insane is not enough... to but play rough
is just enough to...pay… the full expense of what is my… mental touch...
its… more than just pure insanity... more than vanity… to take me so… far
outside the realms of the desert of… her Star...

the real… reality… leaving me… sensually uncaged…
untamed and raging at the gates of this perverted mind and body… so
hopelessly stolen away… converted to her dark side…I
taken to the... ridden brink of my emboldened
and unbridled... lift of soul… up! up! into the old
ancient know of… flaming spirit… no minimalism in the animism of me…

just the thrust of… pent up aggression
and lust released in the aftermath of the fencing
in of the sensuality of true of heart… of 1 part man and
1 part god… of my consistency
the rest was made of the wail and assail of her wall… the ALL-Beast…

to eat the meat of my Revelation... not 666 but the revolutionary concept
of the sexual context of 1872
and I want him set free there to play all day with her… uncaged… unleashed… allowed to
be… and roam and pillage the villagers of her city streets… of her

reckless abandon… of me…
riding that ass like Jesus in the rites of Dionysus
hitched the moon rise of Diana in the pitch black Nights of Pan… and I want him
drunk with wine… punch drunk with the…funk of her
nectar… sweet… I want him only to be the lover… of her keep
and the protector of she… the lonely
anti-hero destined to receive
the holy mantle of the renegade lector-priest… that

defector of temple of temperate things… the mountain climber
up! up!into the infinite
to but touch the rune of the necromancer
up! up! into the climes… of her steep inclines… that…

confederate motherfucker and defector of crimes…. committed against
the empirical states of altered consciousness…
the pull of dragon tales of a hazy heat of
what it is that bears her… fiery flame…
the mantric name games that lead
from the straddle up on the scriptures of the Tantras
to the positions of the Kama Sutras thus piled up on the top of me… the meet the…test of… She-Who-Rides-the-Beast.

Pantherion Scribes © 2013