When Pavarotti plays
On a timeless streak
And emotions flares
To caress lips and
Tongues swimming
Around in a flowing pool
Of sweetness guilt,
Pavarotti stops
And mozart
Turns the mood
Into a fast pace
Of godless spanks
And pure ectasy
To satisfy needs,
Need it be violent
It still satisfy needs;
Groans of pleasure
And moans of hurts,
Of an exact picture
Frame of body and
Minds thrilling and
Pure filth of an endless
Train surpassing its
Way to an undiscovered
Heaven,
And still it goes
Disregarding clocks
And times
Laughing horesly
At normality of
A civilized trick
To entertain pleasure
And delight Or how
And well it might be
Struck and surely
Strucked right.
With one leg
Facing the sky
Or with no
Leg but still
Making
It worth
An invention
In disguise
It’s sweet and sour
And revealing
More episodes
More branch
And column
Of how feigned orgasms
Should be masterd
hopefully
In just an hour.
And thereafter
Holding hands
And walking
And prancing
Along a distorted
Boulevard
Or driving
Into an abandoned
Wharehouse, schools,
Church Or wherever Mozart
Will play uninterrupted
And sparks will fly or
Fasten the pace.
(2015)
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