Cinnabar remittance ailerons squall federal cobblestones. Lank alpine squint modest. Nectarine grimace, cloys toothsome.
Coiffure chain rod composure anemic, primogeniture Swedish cotton murk optics
Rodeo riding maiden broadcaster network metaverse falconry. Boreal voyages legalese.
Simper treacle blanched anecdotally. Goofy balm, beardless tease, healthy as a horse, real bee knees.
A baron's efforts to hold his wealth
only to have it turn on himself.
His estate slips away like water
so sad his firstborn was a daughter.
Which would have likely prevented her
through the norms of primogeniture
to assume a place of prominence
refuting male gender dominance.
But by breaking this sibling pattern
we can tell how well women govern.
Males think they must be our defender
except when it comes down to gender.
Mostly eldest males would inherit
despite if they showed little merit.
Blind bias ran rampant for ages
through Jane Austen's parody pages.
Scattered blood lines inked in a novel
as knights would want his damsels docile.
In past days some sought gender justice
equality should be best for us.
Plans to secure estates and property for male heirs.
20 Lines Couplet 125 Words 6/5/22
When this plague passes over
And we emerge from our arks
Let not the euphoria of seeing
The rainbow in the horizon again
Becloud our vision or deafen our ears
To the sound of heavy chariots from
The end of the spectral
From whence travel a people
In the direction of the sun rise
With boundless treasure
In search of new lands to sow
Crop and human seeds
Let us not stray far away
For these wanderers seek titles
They will come first as farmers
To buy our crops
Yet will not allow us a square metre
On their own soil
Their prisoners will dare to do
What our envoys dread to do in their land
They will pay bride prices
To become one with us
Nomads will seek to become chieftains
And will drink with primogeniture
Till they enter chambers of princesses
In the name of wedlock
And become lords of vast fertile lands
Which natives boast not of
We crave for civilization but
God forbids us allowing princes sell lands
Where dwell the bones of our ancestors
We shall welcome strangers but
Will not share our beloved land
With vile visitors
Lest when midnight comes,
There shall be no shelter
Siphoned light gropes passengers
Hopeful for luminescent hearts,
Arching underneath bombazine drapes
Dusted with passionate legacies
Of original sin and the primogeniture son,
Wicked for nighttime plots savouring
Spicy love, exponential in a vivid darkness.
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