Love them well endowed honeys and this
ain't about just the rounded mounds of the chest
or the way that her thighs fold into her ****
but the love, present in her touch and her mug
as she smiles while maybe hiding behind violently
built walls that rise with spikes to ward off her demons
she brings to the Earth through her grace in the face of madness
a slight slice of the gladness that I can't see in most
to be alive, she sings even if silently for growth and respite
and when she moves along the sidewalk her body is robust
a presence of happiness in the gray womb of this tomb of a city she saves
Does she look like a fool to you for walking
determined and turned on despite the burden on her shoulders that's placed
there with its infinite weight by the masses
not tuned to the channel of faith and the rapture
of the world that she holds boldly in her,
they say that the images she captures offends
and if she wants to fit in, she'll have to give in
and be the frequency all see in the set top glass now plastic
wrapped up faces in glasses demanding she
prance like in the mirror for the sanctity of their ethics
But she flows and she knows her energies better than
these TV profits believe they believe or really ever can,
well endowed, respectful and proud of the strengths in her very nature
and if she knows not then she will, and if she gives in
she'll be half drowned and likely rise for the ****
She is a meat and emotion, a piece of history and more in the making
and I love her. All of her.