Enchantress (Let Me Chisel Talk You) Part Three

(Continued from part two) O! enslaver beware, you are sprouting horns. Kher, poor thing, you should try to be fair, Nimble mares, could tongue-tie you there. The bulls are rearing in their thrills, at bay. K.S. the lion chaste-tied in his lair. Aged, in slumbering malice and duly caged. Could rise again like the mountain on sands; Only, to be subdued by the angry Man. Come, throw that mantle you Viking thief, Hidden beauty, in a scavenger’s wear. Ah! choco-bar, you mast Swiss cheese. Floating in gold lined brocades of silk. You enchanting orchid in designer’s mink, Let Cardin, De beers drown usall in sin. (Must you speak Alishian Akai, you sneak! Aren’t barbarians nicer, than Belan fencing wives.) O! Olea fragrance, let me steal your breath, Cast you in double yellow hues of Petunia. Weave you a friction, in colourful threads of truth. Show magic, in the melodies of the Indian Moon. Thrill, gossip chat, by the whispering windows. Burn chestnuts on glowing embers of coal. Walk around forgotten RB’s place. Roll and let the time toll, on the Standard’s floor. Cave-hike the gouges and the streams. Coax you on, to the mountain tops. See together, the panorama of the setting sun, The twinkling stars of the land and skies. O! Nymph of the woods, time is afire, ages go by. Friends usually forgetting the essence of life. “The curves still, remain lovely dark and deep, We all have our vows and promises to keep.” Dream-flower! we could fly into the solar flares, Melt our multifaceted feathery cloaks. Rejoice with our cosmic friends and foes, Wander down to the erotic Moon. Tread step by step onto the milky paths, Beyond Venus and the earthly Sun. Away from the mysterious Mercury, Or the blood drenched rings of Mars. Wait the palms are itchy, going wild. I see a moustache appear, in Musketeer style. Right under the nose, a scrawling mess. For others maybe to see a real Man. Be-gone you infatuation, savage thought. Loitering Boris Vallejo mesmerises Venus in furs, Golon’s masquerading, Angelique. Vanish, nut wit enchanting energy form. Before I lie, slain in tides of sham. Know thee not, life for some is but a money game, The long and short of stretching digits, Again and again. Fly you cross, thanks confident word. Ventura, come on, Hurry! Cartier sign. The Executioner unloads WWF Mania, Real, live, kicking on life’s arena. End.