Legion of Mercenaries

As if humility were a legion of mercenaries
Descending rapidly over me as a scent of a lascivious woman
In my mind religiosity is a token given in your smile
The smile that often questions
The final indicia that separates wanting from needing,
Desirous from convenient,
Above all it creates an infinite duality
That emanates the giving within feeling
And feeling within willing.
The skin of the skinned is a testament
Given by the privilege held in a hand of a Naiad
Just like in the words of a ballade
Where the bell of a modestly erected cathedral
Boosts masculinity as the outcome of an affection
That cannot be beaten out of me
By purity of a random intention
Or by physical craving for joy, but
By a vestal attraction of oneness with me
When the emptiness of life is covered in a sandstorm
Of an endless, Poe like, dream within a dream.
Forget sitting in a corner of a bohemian pub,
Until the bottom of a bottle or a life is indicatively seen,
Or forget shuffling a stack of cards in a maverick style
To perform the stock standard tricks for chicks,
Rather inhale concord of an early morning
When the femininity is awaken, all seeing
When a dream becomes an axiom of love and in it my being.

menfree verse

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