Clay Mask

Another take on my theme of masks.

 

clay dried, kilned, hardened,

rigid, unmoving, caught

timeless, 

statue unbroken,

but wait,

what’s this,

a crack.

tremor lines,

evolving,

spreading,

crouched statue separating from the man,

shards fall,

unmasked

revelation,

where spirit hidden,

essence unconcealed,

stood tall.

Well Hard.

Sexed-up and keen,

She’s moody and mean

And heavy on the black liner.

Sashays in time

To internal rhyme,

Struts, as though nothing looks finer.

 

Out with the boys,

She makes lots of noise,

Sometimes, squeals with delight.

Holds down her liquor

Makes love, often quicker,

And fills all the machos with fright.

 

She’s tougher than them,

Can tackle the pain

And give just as good as she gets.

Undressed with finesse,

Artfully messed,

And wins almost all of her bets.

 

She’ll kick you to touch

If you as so much,

Declare undying devotion.

She’s been there before,

Not looking for more,

Man’s idea of love, a strange notion.

 

She straddles machine,

Bends forward to lean

And extract more power from throttle.

Look out for when

She stares at you men.

This girl has a truckload of bottle.

 

Stay out of her path,

She cackles for laugh

And flashes her eyes to kill.

She’s toughened up some,

‘Cos treated like scum

Since she was a cute little girl.

 

She’s hard through and through,

So whatever you do,

Don’t go where the sign says, ‘ don’t enter’.

Yes, she’s hard, doesn’t cry,

Though some men still try

But only she knows she  has a soft centre.

 

 

Video reading  https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1440354522856386&l=4133039580718406615