by Tim Chiu
A poem about not getting the one you want, because it's clear you want them.
|From the eerie lands of reverie
Lies the sun to quell dream’s center,
While the patrons of promiscuity,
The shadow hunters blithely enter.
Deforest, shifting real plateaus,
Yet darkening a youth’s demise,
A pleasure to pair but expose
The lusty maiden’s sultry eyes.
Armored gents seal the walkway
While vicious tanks charge at will –
Will Daddy’s princess long to stray
Amid the conquests, gory still?
But black is white on either side –
These healthy faces must protect
Their readiness to revolve, reside
In seductive roles that won’t deflect.
These matters seem most obvious,
A spectacular thought, a dubious fire,
And never worth the hassle or stress,
As all seems aimed, a marked desire.
For every hunter is bathed in shadow
To gain on their prescriptive prey;
To land the crucial shot or blow,
The victim must not go astray!