Hound Of Poetry Poet Verse

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Reverie

Yestreen, the pit opened wide 
To melt blatant lies and cheat,
The promises of fake reverence, 
And infinite prospects of utter bleat.

The flames burned, scenic and vast,
Or it seemed to be the case, at last,
Vivid, with the sound of bells’n’shells
As they would, between two cartels.

The mudra act caused a giggle
When asked for a quick jiggle,
Stop the convo, cut me a groove
It’s a perfect night for such a move.

Being sick of soft masculinity et al.
Politically kind to the art of Chagall,
I’d appreciate a woman as she is
Femme, native, including the striptease.

So, is it better to convo and lingo
About all the current and forced BS,
Or to strip bare to dare, and caress
With a great chance of scoring a bingo?

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