Uncle Tom’s Legacy:

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Recorded scorn, in Maya’s floss

Riven through sounds of trampled caste

Cry bloodied African loss

Forlorn dreams centuries past

Such that: we reside under

Clouds shedding torrid existence

Barrelled crabs fed on powdered

Fuel; empty bellies with pretence

Religion serves purposes no

Longer required to keep peace

Resistance flatters – as winds blow

Uncle Tom has done his job

Culled by obligated rental lease

Blairite bureaucracy abound

Signed racist acquiescence

Democratic allegiance found

Adjoined to pagan acceptance

Quaint truth divulges tolerance

Grateful masses crowd hostile borders

Meek heads  – bowed without hindrance

Rival forces collide like thunder

Planned layers yield conniving dross

Yearly voting evil favours

Enough to make submissives cross

Stolen cultures designed bleak futures

Shooting From The Hip:

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She moves like a ballet dancer

Languid strides accomplished with ease

Short mini-skirt – would be, seducer

Nicely huddled in a tight squeeze

“Excuse me!  May I have a word?

So happy, to make your acquaintance

Your beauty exceeds more than I’ve heard

Let’s do away with any pretence

Step inside; out the pouring rain

Place your coat over my radiator

Those beautiful sounds, on window panes

Serve as great communicator.”

Forecasted dank dreary weather

Adds an elusive sexual blend

Thigh-length boots swishing virgin leather

Exaggerate pins that wont end

“Of course I’m attracted to you

Sure that is fairly obvious

Put aside any token virtue

Simply do what comes natural to us.”

Pumped adrenaline increase blood-flow

Static electric tingles each touch

Move in close – deliberately slow

Suddenly, we can’t get enough

Nervously feeling well unstable

Already, temperatures start to boil

Sly saliva slow-seeps dribble

Soon, crisp emotions begin to spoil

Sweat creeps, as heat gently rises

Blackouts continue in minutiae

Intricately aroused surprises

inveigle bawdily bold foreplay

Conversation drifts wickedly

Morose; reflected gripe scolds timed leaks

Spun deep, cutting intimately

Dubious pose – slight pause – then speaks

“Would love to have some Roodbwoy sex

Callously execute wicked back-shot

Ride hard and leave a soiled-up mess

Exploding crème in a well-oiled slot.”

Submissive stance hurriedly muse

Resigned – head bowed – on bended knee

Curdled yelps endorse every bruise

Embarked upon a decadent spree

“Look how it’s rigidly hard

Bursting thin lips, one eye on show.”

Thick, rapid spurts congeal like lard

Sheepish wide eyes chime: ‘there she blows.’

Come Fly With Me:

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Let us toward that land of dreams

A place inscribed with warriors’ screams

Knowing not where – or, from whence

Not to scare – or bridge the fence

Word has not a place to hide

He stoops, surveys and claims his bride

If, and when you can decide

Gather your quill and take your stride

I am this world to Be

Over fields and trees, this world to see

Now, I calmly take my time

Poetry’s judge avails my crime

A love of words can be no shame

With hands and heart accepting blame

Come sweet treasure, away with me

Over mountainous lands

Cross tempestuous sea

Let us traverse the realms

Survey heavenly stars

Word takes the helm

We’ll travel , as far

As moonlight visions allow

The place where silent assuaging winds

Coolly skirt my furrowed brow

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