Three Poems


Taurus Rising

Rising the tidal waves
Of my lechery and lust
That lash against the nippled
Mounds bouncing on the supple
Shore of your brown naked,
Wet body beautiful,
O non negotiable,
Unquestionable, Beloved,
And unstoppable in
Concupiscent fury.
Allow me dismantle your
Alluring hourglass corset,
Strip by strip of its black,
Velvety, see-through baleen frame.
Behold the viscous hour
Unticking and untocking.

Time is a nightingale
Sweetly singing and fading.
Space is a fragile goblet
Dropping into a black hole
And spurting its content.
O towering Babel of Bliss,
Let us kiss till death do
Us part. Open your Holy
Of Holies. My titillating
Tongue shall unlock
The chastity belt of your
Modesty and shyness.
Let our moist loins conjoin,
Gyrate—your gentle pull,
My furious tumescent thrust—
Till we crumble into wanton dust.

* * *

A Woman of Independent Means

Legions of rejected suitors
And unrequited lovers
Have given me pejorative
Names like “gold digger”
And “social butterfly.”
But I assure you I am none

Of these. I am simply a
Woman of independent
Means who always makes
It a point to enchant a filthy
Rich romantic to liberate
And make me independent
From a wolf-calling, ass-
Pinching, boobs-mashing
Horde of other equally
Lusty but destitute dudes.

* * *

The Promise

Because I subscribe
To the old cliché that
Promises are meant
To be broken, I do
Not want to please
Or disappoint you
By remaining neutral
And non-committal.
Thus I refuse to make
A pledge that I love
Or hate you with all
My heart in a world
Of flux where the only
Things constant are

Maybe I will and maybe
I won’t. Right now,
By Shiva, I still have
A thousand shards
Of broken promises
To glue together,
Repair and break
Again like imitation
Ming vases. The only
Promise I can assure
You is not to promise
Or unpromise you
My dear or pet-peeve
Everything or nothing.


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