The Birth of Love: A Ballad of Strength and Beauty (Act I)

The darkness of medieval vile,
Encompasses my thoughts of mind.
My happiness is far by mile,
I pray not morning comes in kind.

I’ve been a prisoner of Tower,
It chained my soul, ensnared my heart.
Are there those who have the power,
To set me free and never part?

I must confess of thoughts of leaving,
It left my mind a wondrous mess.
Oh dear lord, what am I hearing,
Is that a foretaste of egress?

The intricate and murky maze,
Surrounds the castle night and day.
I prey my knight will doff his haze,
And let his passion lead the way.

The demons rose in all their might,
With one concern, to kill the knight.
Their shadows darker than the night,
These spirits are a dreadful sight.

Despite the underworld march,
The noble hero tows no barge.
He rallies as his horse makes arch,
The sward is drawn, time to charge.

A Gift of Devine

Magnificent curves block out the Sun,

As voluptuous figure unleashes.
Her effortless nudity as she gets undone,
Can make one perform prematurely.

Caressing her flower as she makes much noise,
Like a panther she cringes and claws him.
Immuned by adrenalin he does best to hold on,
Selfishly stroking his manhood.

A switch in position is made in a flash,
Reminiscent of crossed phone conversation.
To pleasure each other like that needs no plush,
They are ready for ultimate action.

Their tingling bodies are rearranged,
The approach is begun, there is no stopping.
A rigidly tight sensation is sensed,
As he pushes inside of her ravishing body.

Lovers rowdily scream and they loudly moan,
They twist and they turn their bodies, oh its on.
He gets a bit tired; time to mount on,
She rolls onto him quickly to begin Rodeo.

Like pinpointed rockets, staring into his eye,
Her incredible breasts making circles is truly divine.
Embracing the feminine body with pride,
The speed is increased by a push from the rear.

The end is approaching they can feel it inside,
Still time for more, she gives up all her rights,
As she turns around, he comes from behind.
This time he owns it, time to reach for new heights.

The pinnacle is reached and both fall on their backs,
He is catching a breather as she marvels his stock.
Something clicked and she squeezed her phenomenal legs,
The show is not over, she want him to comeback.

Another Good Idea

The Saga of the Belly Bums is over.
To no surprise, it crashed and burned.
One year passed and now it’s done with.
No possibility of being digitally traced.

No thought, no hope, no help from muses.
I made this ugly duckling on my own.
Who could have known it would be non-amusing.
The inspiration was unbelievably strong.

As failure closes yet one more idea,
I make but only single wish.
To never having need of dreaming,
Except at night when I am in bed.

Beat the Odds

The deal is done, and snow has fallen.
I am but one, and horse that’s hauling.
The mud, the sleek, all thanks the snow.
The wooden shoes don’t help at all.

The road ahead, looks dim and sad.
My thought on that, oh well, that’s that.
The time for dreams has gone and passed.
My providence is but a forlorn path.

The laymen of the countryside,
Can’t help but notice my demise.
They watch as eyes get soaking wet.
They know what’s coming up ahead.

The road before was tough as nails,
It brought me to my knees.
Reduced to hauling ghastly hay,
My life has forced me to dismay.

My wagon is going up a lofty hill.
The weary horse is going still.
I am myself a dying breed.
I work for living, that’s my creed.

I will forsake the giving hand.
Forget the countryside, its weeping laymen.
I’ll find myself once yet again.
I’ll beat the odds, I’ll be a man.

Happy Birthday, Lucky Bastards

What Midnight Light,
What Sound of Casino,
What beauty of the modern Eye,
Las Vegas Strip, one wants to die.

It takes few Master Pimps,
Some Drinks, Some Good Food,
Suit case of money,
Oh this feels good.

I bet on red,
That is why I am sad,
These guys are better,
They bet much greater.

They are BJ professors,
They are Blue Label or better,
They are get rich or die trying,
They are 8 Mile.

So this weekend,
In the Encore Vegas,
There will be two birthday Pimps,
Getting happy or better.

They will be feasting
Get wasted and fucking,
We will all be here,
And we gonna like it, AIT!

Who am I

That open corner,
How crave thee,
On Monday morning,
When life begins,

He slowly, creeps
He jokes, He dances, He parades
Those who are watching,
Stand and crave

That open corner,
Has his name,
But he who dances,
Loose the aim

Those who are trying,
Get the boot,
Those who are lying,
Never loose,

I often wonder,
Is it true?
That Every corner,
Misses you.

Only the smart,
follow the pavement,
only to find
Pothole filled with anger

Those who are stupid,
Never loose,
Those who are angry,
Get the boot

That makes me, what?
A pig? An ass? A Jork?
 Who doesn’t ever
Know whats best?

One thing is clear,
We are here to stay,
What ever happens,
Obama pays.

Awakening

Delighted by the presence,
Of something that is new.
I wonder if it’s possible,
To feel as if I’m two.

No, I am no fool,
I know the deal.
The deal to forget,
To feel.

When was the last time,
you were true?
No, not to me,
But to the inner you.

The day we closed our eyes,
The day we went to sleep,
The day that dreams,
Could only make us weep.

Good news,
Awakening is coming.
Just focus for a glimpse,
Of each and every day.

In it you’ll find,
What you have missed for years.
The cheerfulness,
That made you play.