my body,
my mind,
they are
a palette of
deep tumultuous pain and twisted
wicked pleasure.

a poetic sea
of spontaneity
with
climactic
beginnings and
endings that
women with me;

will measure.

measure you,

and see if your
words are merely
words or if
you too can become a ****** poem in need of
censure.

a poem i am,

that stands tall
through the mist
along side women that ache to be
caressed and
seduced inside
the mist and into a blur.

a poem i am... ..

albeit abstract but,
gets your juices
to stir as you
read
'this poem'
for perhaps... ..

which there may never
be a cure.

once read;

reality steps in
and selfish passion needs to
endure.

with our bodies;

we have written
poems on summer nights in ***
filled sheets and
bottom lips that
drip with sweat.

a poem i am,

that has never failed to make any
woman wet.

fifty two years and none of the five will i
ever regret!

let's write another
poem in tomorrow's
sunset.

a poem i am;

a poem that you,

unlikely... ..

have
ever read or met.