Muse #4

The greatest art never sees the light of day

If entertainment is God, illusion is Lord.

4.0

Blood is sap,

Bark is fuel,

Edible stare,

Botanical jewel.

Your body is naked,

to match your mind,

nature bows,

to your hind.

4.1

Broken bitches chasing riches.

Do I like to sleep? What’s with the smile? Do you enjoy sleeping in my cooch sailing up The Nile. I gotta get back to my kids so they learn how a man is supposed to raise his bids.

4.2

Degenerate gambler, husband’s addicted to defeat, hooking for my daughter’s future, keeping them off the street.

Charm is his gift; beyond that is a curse, charm is responsibility running in reverse.

The men I service, love my skin, their compliments resonate, where sorrows begin.

I enjoy my job, I resent my man, why don’t I leave him, that’s not God’s plan.

It’s not a bother; I was once a daughter, no mystery why I loved my father.

He wrote me poetry, about my mind, he read my thoughts, like he was driving blind.

A man’s worth rests behind a woman’s scars, charm is unconcerned with what you confuse as ours.

4.3

Melodic Tang

Light obeys your skin…it evokes the origin of sin.

Exactly the way you are…no different bleeding chocolate tar.

What is your illusive appeal? A father’s love, tenderizing your heart like veal; an army sniffs a tempestuous meal.

Senses compete to ravage your meat. Scalloped-back, there is nothing you lack.

Godless smut, churns my gut. Your wing is cut, options shut.

If beauty could starve stink of its smell, my nose would rot, my unnecessary shell.

My eyes bellowing my body to obey, I kneel in compliance my mind is your pâté.

Muse twang their melodic tang, it diddles men’s sanity, with its perverted slang.

Botanical beast I’m at my least, honesty is my faith, I am your priest.

I preach to muse the ultimate clout; the God you reject is doubt.

Dark.

Decadent.

Dense.

What makes you a muse?

Let's talk. I want to document your life through the anonymity of my poetry. People who read your poetry will realize how beautiful you are without knowing what you look like. The body is a consequence of the mind; the mind is a monster. Why? Hell is in the head (biblically). If you remove the body from the equation, the mind is forced to focus on empathy. Why? It feels isolated. Within that is solitude...where there is no prospect of sexuality interfering with your value.

Through your online activity I develop an understanding of your essence. Those who step forward will be assigned a number. That number is the only link from my poetry to your essence.

You are free to use my poetry to share yourself in ways sexuality cannot.