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Die Another Day

“Die Another Day”

“Your mission, should you so deem it,
Is to infiltrate ALL Fluff Clusters in K.A.O.S. Headquarters
And bloody well steam it!”

“The Place is a hazardous mess of a trap
Over run with Double Agents, ulterior motives
Amorous Nuns-on-the-Run drooling ardent dreams 
of swimming naked
in buckets of Blood Red Roses
69’ers come 96’ers with rapturous missives
Requiring decoding – 
And their artillery compares to none other in this world -
Containing the most dangerous pensive locked-up emotions!
Written superfluously with more than likely Nootropics, 
Toadstools (sic) Toad stools and 
viperous inebriated poisonous frog posing lotions.

The place itself dear girl, is infested with Love Potions and
Lust boats rocking furiously on Saga-full 
swelling erotic and  Sensual oceans. 
The place needs fumigating, too many damn birds!
They breed lice! Not to mention the droppings 
Full of ‘sweet nectar’ brings in all the 
Rats and the mice!
You are required to go in there dear Agent Petrova
And blow it apart with your Vixenish explosives and coat it
In mind numbing black and white Zebra striped run away train words 
in subterranean doses.”

M barked in clipped soft tone staccato and contradictory whisper
Eyes like a Hawk watching the shadows while tickling her cactussing 
hormonal whiskers -
A viperish Tongue that could lash and deliver one such hell burning blisters
To recalcitrant Frenchmen Stinking Frogs and 
Germans, dismissive.

“This should be fun!” S.A.P. processed the new Dossier nonchalantly,
Clicking her sharp stillettos down endless corridor mazes with glee.
Dress-ups, disguises, nom de plumes - this thought She, was 
definitely SHE.

Elegant, eloquent, Walk-the-Talk, machine gun ‘em down 
Special Agent Petrova 
Very Special S.A.P.
Is in town!
Not loose, never for free
Spray the room with her intoxicating perfume and 
her Che Guevara 

Pursuing (sic) perusing
the mission with loaded quill in her hand 
She'd stroke and smoke out the big guns
Morphing her guises, transfiguring 
Speaking in tongues
Pinning their tales all over her 
“favourite” walls
All agents on the run, what a Fluff Cluster Spree...
Captivating Foreign and Homeland
Corral only the best
Capture them all 
Arrest and divest

Subterfuge forays were her forte
This she thought was apt
Analysing the Attache
She had it down pat.

To hell with all Pernod Swilling French Men 
Run amok and astray…
To hell with the Toads in their Dark Green sordid sortie

She was on with the mission 


1. :)




"There are some agents who don't end their sentences with a proposition"/Jan Morrow.

Copyright © Leanne Lovejoy-Burton