Honey Pot

There is transcendence in your womanly flesh,
I am lifted out of myself gazing for a moment
On your bedded naked body,
Twin orbs of glorious pulchritude
Rising above the flatlands of the oasis
Where I taste the sweetest nectar,
And enter the cool heat of the living cave:
I am home within you.

Even as I am
Ranting ragging feminists call all men
Bicycle seats for fishes,
Insist we are all rapists,
Abdicating responsibility themselves,
Claiming promiscuity and virginity,
Honestly deceitful,
Without duality or mutuality,
Angry, hateful, blaming;
Weekend warriors,
Looking for alibis and orgasms;
Bullies claiming to represent womanhood
In the silence of their sisters.

They slime slut walks and cat walks
Carrying scalpels, to get you out of them
After Inviting you in with everything but words
That might be used in a court
Where justice is blind and female.
Children are just weapons of collateral damage
In the war they deny they wage,
Claiming the best defence is offence,
Citing ancient history amidst the carnage of today
Showing evidence from elsewhere
For their hostility here and now.

Castrate men remain alone or go off in pairs and groups
Disgusted to hear their pillow talk in affadavits
Beds defiled like churches are defiled
By the monetary mischief of the courts
And utter perversion of the state
Self destructing abortions of rank power.

We kiss and caress
Whisper sweet nothings
Tongues parting lips
Fingers finding genitals
Ripe bodies coupling
In merciful relief
To spasm with sweet release
In the throes of ecstacy.

Together we pray.





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