Mulier Diaboli
Devil woman of today and yesterdays,
climbing out of swamps and morbid maze,
out of sinister pits and diabolic domiciles,
moving full steam ahead with her cunning wiles,
leaving a trail of perfume and exotic spice,
pumping heated blood through veins of ice,
lifting her skirts up high along the way
among fallen warriors where weapons lay,
laying claim to the world at her slender feet
with her smiles, her schemes, and luscious heat,
leaving kings behind with romantic promises,
a virginal taste of beauty and passion kisses,
rumpling sheets on royal canopied beds,
made for sleeping and a place for tired heads,
ruffling up the order of the life of the fool,
with an overwhelming urge from passion’s rule,
the climbing into his groin of twisted wire
with the melting of the blood of liquid fire.
He falls to the bottom with a brand new heart,
broken but alive, less the pumping in the dark.
She is a teacher of her wicked ways
and thus the pleasure of spellbinding days,
of lust being the core of an ensuing love,
of life mixed with sin and voices from above.
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