The Poetess Vixen

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The poetess vixen
Trying to seduce my intellect
Whispering those sweet thoughts
Paused my pen; time to reflect
But I’m not one to cave to pressure
Her pretty eyes leading me to temptation
I can appreciate & smile back
Without any need for erotic retaliation

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The Truth About Women’s Feet

  

Love wrapped around my mind like a shroud

Full of colors, spectrums & radiant splashes

Not a day without engulfing sunshine

Blinded by pantyhose & false eyelashes

I believed in the fairytale courtships

Sipping champagne from glass slippers

Lovely damsels in need of gentlemen

Revealed to be crude strumpet strippers

My soul could not take this detail

Where was my love with elegant class

Distraught in this new reality

Stuck on feet made for crystal glass

How could my dreams unravel so

This giving me pause to think

Now I understand the truth

That women’s feet actually stink

The Wind Howling At Midnight

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The wind howling at midnight
Broken windows – open to the outside air
Exposed to the communal by-passer
Her soul had fallen into disrepair
Fatigue & listless emotions manifesting
Immune to careless compliments
Time to pause & regroup her focus
Happiness born from common sense