The Old Man, And The Whore


How could manhood lay, unfulfilled
In the throes of, angst and senescence
With the legacy of, pride instilled
Under millstone of, manly pretense!

“Come string the beads, of your allure!
In the silver strands, of a mellowed mate
Dare you find, a greater paramour?
Than the lasting fury, that lay in wait!”

“Your puckered hide, stinks of insolence
Your touch feels, like cold cadaver
Your plight pities, my benevolence
Yet, despises you, a lust-baiter!”

Do consummate, two enigmas
Same sin of yens, yet once more
And then gape at, lingering impasse
The Old Man, And The Whore!

© 2017 Vikas Chandra

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