priestesses would welcome Pilgrims with open thighs.
Each Spring they would dip their Breasts in scented oils,
and spread their sacred ass cheeks over cool marble floors.
They'd Fuck whoever came knocking
until the very walls exhaled their funk.
But our World
bows to pilgrims
who take the offering
and make no sacrifice in return
Sir,
when it comes to women
I love the cherry troublemakers,
the bombshells busting at the Seams.
You had Me
from the moment you exposed yourself
to the boy's debate team.
You told them,
"It's Every woman's right to
express, flaunt, or otherwise
exploit her Sexuality."
And that may or may not be
fucking 251 men
in ten hours
on camera.
After you finished your masterpiece,
breaking the world record gang bang
by delivering 251 happy endings
in the time it can take me to write a single page,
well, baby, even the camera lens was Steamed Up.
When you welcome them with
bring it in your eyes and
its hurts so good dripping from your Lips,
your slick flesh reminded them of our first love,
pleasure.
But Sir,
they don't dress goddesses in sequined pleather,
or airbrush Styrofoam to raise Temple Walls.
The altar they built for you was nothing but a Stage Prop.
They may say
you took it too literally
when your mother taught you to effect from within,
to prove that it was your choice,
that a woman could simple love to Fuck.
They may wonder
if the seeds of your masterpiece
were sown in the trash behind your Apartment.
Six different men,
you said, they wouldn't stop coming.
What they don't realize
is that the seeds may have been spilled in waste,
but you didn't allow Violets to grow there just to watch them Wilt.
Warrior,
you have never Cowered.
You've never been a Victim.
Your Bravery is the purest Kind,
blind.
So Priestess,
don't let them catch your Bouncy Ball Smile
when they Laugh.
When they call you perverted,
scoff at you for risking Life to Disease,
just remember they're Jealous because
you have Lived.
As long as we can watch
our Children be cut down to defend the HomeLand.
as long as we let our lives go Punched away for the next dollar,
as long as differences are grounds for Murder.
then sex,
sure as hell,
is good enough to Die for...
