The Muse


The Muse

He has given me a magic wand,
An infinite hard-on – this pen,
Like a hair trigger gun –
Like an indigo bomb

And a nagging, sex-crazed wife
With a razorʼs articulation,
Obsessed with crisp diction –
Rarely mum

Even as I write sheʼs chanting passages
And plotting ontological scenes,
She appreciates a stiff pen – a variation in themes,
And, of course, her offspring
Whom she dotes upon incessantly

She could leave me today
Or stay with me forever,
Iʼm a fool to think I control her, or ever could
Agelessly beckoning me with constrictive skirts
Way up to her ass,
Ever provoking me to irreverent copulation,
This celibate coitus drives me mad

Sheʼs such a whore!
What more could I ask Him for?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s