.
Lady Roxy keeps her lover private,
hidden in a box under the bed.
The only conclusion one can arrive at,
she prefers something that buzzes instead.

Lady Roxy doesn't bother with dating,
just an occasional change of battery.
No reason to hang around waiting,
for compliments and blushing flattery.

Lady Roxy's lover does as she bids,
deftly wielded as a weapon of pleasure.
With no exchange of ****** fluids,
'tis truly her most joyous treasure.


© Pagan Paul (10/10/17)

I felt my heart begin to pound
Your voice had that familiar sound..

I saw you slowly walk up those stairs
I knew I was right to be so scared..

The way you looked at me..
I could barely breathe..

The air was heavy with doubt
Who knew silence could be so loud?

Loving you was always so hard..
..I guess..
*"We're better apart."

.
Though my boat is tossed
high upon these crests,
I fear not the deep sea
where the sailors souls rest.

Cast adrift, alone to float,
my mother Sycorax had planned.
But lo! I reach sanctuary
and dance ecstatic on the sand.

My grotesque form I treasure
but loneliness soon must end.
Yes! A monster I might be,
but Caliban needs a friend.

Paradise is mine and ripe.
Behold! A kingdom and a home!
The sun blisters all day long,
oh Muses why am I so alone?

“Hush boy! Careful of thy wish,
the scheme is so much grander.
For Prospero prowls the island
with his witch daughter Miranda”.

Run ugly Caliban. Run away.
Disappear, you must be brave.
For the Wizard has loosed Ariel,
your wretched body to enslave.

The girl holds you enchanted,
with promises of fair romance.
Feel her pull puppets strings,
watch her make You dance.

Oh Caliban! What darkness befalls,
a prisoner tithed with no trial.
Yearn, dear boy, for isolation
and the loneliness of your Isle.

© Pagan Paul (28/02/17)

.
It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
They'd go well for a time,
but come the fourth line....


It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
They had the precision of a clock,
but then they would suddenly stop...


It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
It really wasn't his fault,
they just came to a halt...


...**** it!


© Pagan Paul (01/02/17)

I amble as if I weigh a tonne

I gasp as if someone has lied

I weep as if I have no words

I mourn as if something has died