That Beau, Called Dildo


vikas chandra

Thirteen seemed a bygone, when eighteen, one year shy
Rildo was still a half-lad, nay, a half-man, with star in eyes
Who motley ladies, found to be, their vanity’s best buy
For he ironed out, their wrinkled breasts, hid their lure’s stark lies

Was it the choice, of a naïve bloke, to be a wanting bait?
A mother’s ‘Rildo’, how became, a ‘Dildo’ in demand!
“Boy! How many blotches of blusher! Where’s gone your, clean slate?”
“Ma’am! You’re just another, love-mother, in my cloud cuckoo land!”

Between a drunk youth and lost world, lay
Spent man, in the tentacles, of unspent lust
“This ain’t love Ma’am, what a phony foreplay…!”
“Count your dough, gigolo, not my moans, you must…!”

How coming of age, dreary rites of passage, made an enigma of him
So far that child’s tomb, and man, within a stone’s throw
Still rings the bell, meanders out that…

View original post 14 more words

Submit a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s