LATE NIGHTS AND LANDMINES
Within the dark of night, that black hole lies awake & gaping,
In that place, where once inside, there´s absolutely no escaping,
That sorry place of brooding eyes, across the sleazy mating bar,
Where felined females await, hope & aim for errant falling stars.
A place where ebon clad guitarist sits waiting & broodingly bodes,
Where smoky tango swirls off walls & sensuality in heat explodes,
And upon the dark cornered stools where the slatternly putas sit,
Selling for coins, their sad flesh, to cruel hands & life´s seedy misfits.
That den of iniquity, of cheap suits & of even cheaper rank perfume,
A place in the dark, where shadows dance with sad unforgettable tune,
Where sweat flows along the furrows, together with bloody red wine,
And where bodily fluids hold hands with fluids & they all end up supine.
A flint of cheroot, a glint of stiletto, all sharp, all shiny & all ever ready,
Opium smoke curling, kissing the blade, slow motioned, heavy & heady,
Plastered red lips & red plastic stilettos, clicking, cliented out of the door,
It´s just another night of explosion, in the night of the land of the poor.
© Copyright, Sue Lobo 2015
Response to our Inspiration Call on November 1, 2015
Photo Credit: © FreeImages.com
Categories: Featured Writer's