Beta Male

I’m just a beta male, far from an alpha, A submissive type who like to be,   Taken advantage of. The type for, feminists, And those women who love to wear the pants at home.   I have a bison type chest that is broad Near the shoulders and vertically, I climb to a strapping…

Blonde

Dim wit, or nitwit Is a borderline insult and doormat, Is just plain bulldozing and still, look at anything Blonde, you get a feeling of Being a perennial understatement. “How many blondes to write a poem?” One to put the thinking Viking hat on, One to look at the northern lights, And the midnight sun,…

Woman

Who adds storyline to story, Love to a numb-stricken protein universe, Who sleeps with you, painting the canvases Inside your ventricles, and can give You an angina, any moment She decides to rattle your world, In disembarkment, when she morphs Your body into a fluid, and in departure, That godspeed-instant of goodbye, That like a…

Cleavage

The unborn sin Takes its cue from the apple tree And extrapolates the fine art of revelation To embryonic desire, in the beholder Sometimes apples, those benefactors of lust Are just an expression of womanhood No riddles to solve, no invitations to grapple with No confectionery to indulge in. Only the implicit clarity, That what…

Cyclone

############## She cleans her face with soap And an avocado facial wash Wipes with a Kleenex tissue and applies Some moisturizer. She embellishes Her lips with a titian lipstick Cheeks with skin-toned blush And darkens her eye lashes With mascara. ####### She will walk to her man Waiting in the lobby of the Colombo Hilton….

A Virgin In Utah

She cleans the table And takes out the morning trash And thus the day begins in Utah. A woman 26 years, a virgin, pledged to Jesus Who in this dire paranoid technosphere Is just fighting for mere survival. And she looks at the bananas on the table While she thinks of the Poet Basho who…

Brown Girl

Brown paper packages come to mind here. Like a Sri Lankan, 35 years, Sold on a paper advertisement, Traded by her parents. Should I say brown paper packages Tied up with string here? Nah it rarely rains virgins here. And it seems we are jinxed, our women Are never love machines, SHHHH, that’s done In…

Not Just a G String

There are rounded monoliths that rise To proclaim their own turf, as eyes pop out like springs To wonder, what heaven am I in. And strangely there is no string theory here. Just Lady Godiva explaining the physics Of the buoyancy of her buttocks. And I wonder, how tight the flanking Knots are, seemingly carless…

Ooh La La – A Cheeky Poem

A cheeky wonder Of how a camelid came about Through evolution, to garnish A woman’s anatomy. Catacomb walls Of third base, flower with petals The idiosyncrasy of housing A little nubbin, that makes her blush And implore. Can you cut an apple To crescents? Any woman can and will. In juxtaposition you see two curling…