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Saturday, June 1, 2013

The Mantis Male

After great Sir Walter got beheaded
They ate his daughter's brain, not breaded.

Such was life in this brave New World,
Where to survive, colonists ate young girls.

Get out your tomatoes and forget that tornado,
I'll massage your labido 'til it feels like Play Dough!

A torrent began of pagan words,
So a poem came and torched my earth.

I'm letting go of old tea-bowls,
Watching them flow to dear old souls.

I left, all packed, in a rental car,
But won't be back 'til I travel far.

Tantric experiments in symmetry,
Time got folded, literally.

The circles I travel in are like fabric unravelling.

When your lot in life is a salary,
You put salt in the pot from a company.

A train so needs a load of coal, yeah,
A shame no weed for old soul yoga!

One Bufo marinus, got to know Jesus,
Amplexed before sex, on females he seize-ed.
Bufo this Cane Toad, fast-tracked to Australia,
He aspired to sainthood, on the backs of femalia.

I once knew a pimp, a Mantis Shrimp,
Colorful, but decidedly fierce.
He met a sea-horse, a metaphor of course,
For his lover who liked to get pierced.

One Pimp who knows nature's carnality,
Is the Mantis Shrimp, he blows with finality.

The recessive painter colors for who?
An incessant prayer that's greater than you.

The Fed has set its oatmeal to bubble,
Face well away, or else there'll be trouble.

Sympathy for old friends, with coins on Mt. Gox,
Gold makes no amends, they've both got the pox.

Booked to stoke wood, from midnight to dawn.
Look into the kiln, third eyelid withdrawn.

All your guts know rot is balmy,
Roots grow back a thought that's calming,

A progressive writer, tools wit in a blog.
The aggressive fighter, duels with fog.

The rogue-est of states is run by a young-un,
The lowest-est of fates is fun for Kim Jong Un.

Many say love's an emotion,
Others say love's in the head.
Some complain love's a commotion,
And maintain it should stay in your bed.

As a Mantis Male,
 . . . I have a fantasy,
It's to grab your Mantis tail
 . . . and then to bed with Thee!
But as a Mantis Man,
 . . . I know reality,
You plan to eat my head instead,
 . . . the moment I bed with Thee!

Whatever you want to make,
 . . . is what you'll eventually be.
However many mistakes it takes,
 . . . shouldn't matter a whit to thee!

To my Mantis-wife,
I’ll dish my fantasy,
I’ll pray and wish my Damnedest-life
That you never prey on me!

If a Mantis-thee, is my fantasy,
I wish you'd grant us, prey on me!

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