middle aged women in the mid-40s
and in their late 50s,
and their mid-***
20+ homosexual journalist
                               fan-boys...
what could ever go wrong?
                             last, time i checked?
not much...
                            it's fun though,
watching these mongrels....
                                       skive beliteling
aristocract...
                                      little women
and their little gays....
                                  after all,
we need our puppets without
the strings...
                                                 what
the hell does it matter, tomarry off
a peasant vogue inspector,
                  with the lasting remains of
a hubris...
                     pretty boy made it into her
facet journalistic
                   "debate"...
                 only because he fathomed
the ****-,
                         talk about reintroudicng
man to glucose...
                               death by a sudden
disbelief....
                   and man: retaining:
                 a circumstance
                                for a lost for less fiddly,
           with language being
the ultimatum of tongue
not spoken,
played with what is allowed by the arc...
               to deem a rose plagued by
purple...
bruised by Barking...
                           as the only Muslim
i might retain a respect for being the Turk...
scribbling in Latin...
                                        remnant of
Troy...
                   remnant of Troy,
                    the last remnant of
a cruelty...
                       and the blacks would say:
your women...
        my what?!
                 what women?!
                             last time i checked
putin made it clear
that the women who retained their birth-right
would remain shackled,
in an ever extended sharia law...
way past the simplis -
              of spotting,
                    the eager face...
                        to be shot..
                                         even with her
faces hidden,
      in istambul...
            their lives were doubly
covered
        with niqabs, worthy of a life...
lived, unlived,
                               somehow
hidden...
                          hidden women,
niqabs that didn't hide their faces,
rather, their lives...
                                         no stranger than
what was already strange.