Who squirms, beneath, that shroud, of skin
Bedizened fear, of, beauty’s faith!
A worn out, soul, spent with, her sin
In the, breasted body, of a wraith!
How debonair is, flushed, feminine flair!
Sly art, of, sensual artifice
Would a, woo-man’s lure, ever be, so bare
Sans the, sinful lips, of her, love-orifice!
Was this species, made, for center-spreads
And the, orgies of, orgasmic sprees
To be sold, to thaw, cold wrinkled beds
Why evolution failed, to cure, this disease!
Could more, be profound, an insolence
Than, woo-manhood’s, shame’s enigma
Instincts dance, to her, dare’s dalliance
When A, Woo-man Flaunts, Sexual Stigma!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra