Saturday, July 10, 2010
Who Are You To Piss On My Parade?
my breasts to fall and for me my luscious legs to shave
You may despair for my slim waist to widen and expand
all because no open heart did care to hold onto your hand
You may desire to get up my skirt and know not to flirt
so obscenities you blurt for hope unto me to then hurt
You may dream that I would die penniless and forgotten
in this wounded world you feed with all of your's rotten
You may want me with a passion unheard of in emptiness
for your unrequited pain you sent out unholy bitterness
You may hope that I will close my eyes to go pleadingly
except you know not of the finer stuff that's inside of me
You may kill the joy in your own sunken down vessel
but you will never hide inside of me to naughtily nestle
You may rob the liars blind with your own projections
while I peacefully sleep due to love's true protections
You may threaten me with a host of your hostile abuses
for we all know that it is the abuser that always accuses
You may treat me with distain as you unzip your pants
and tell me you hate me while you go on with your rants
You may slander me to my neighbors who listen and pry
and spread on more untruth before I begin to really cry
You may hear my cries and think the bully is now winner
for you have no compassion for myself or your own sinner
You may cut me into pieces with internal rage left hiding
once you feel your sadness far from ever really subsiding
You may hate me for my joy I refuse to remove from me
for this is the sun that keep shining to forever set me free
You may hunt me down and bad-mouth me all over town
and all you do is reveal yourself to be the angriest clown
You may shrivel up with a deepest scars oozing with pain
as you watch me gowing and glowing in this torrential rain
You may despise me for how I continue to keep abreast
for my heart is bigger and braver as empathy does attest
You may conquer with your physical manner and pose
since the real man inside the broken boy already knows
You may hurt me while you sleep a dead man's slumber
baby, I am wide awake and already know your number!
I can gratefully thank one more abuser; the ulimate abused .. for arousing in me utter compassion, rather than the comtempt he only wishes he felt for me.
The badgering bully who masquerades as "The Good Samaritan" in this wee village of Vancouver is not fit for these peaceful streets or my lovely treats.
Yelling at me that I use my big breasts to get things for free, this slimy simpleton is surely not gonna win the breast of magically marvelous me!
I am practically cackling as i take joy in the knowledge that picture shall certainly provoke more added controversy to the subject of this so-called magical mystery woman.
Go for it. Keep guessing ...