In these diabolical gender-wars
It is not women who are calling for freedom
It is freedom calling for a woman
To put every inch of him inside her lips
And spit it all out, to free freedom
From the oppressive grip of lust.
Like a colorful parrot, who can fly away
To any rain forest or managed woodland
Yearning to be suckled by a Venus flytrap.
She will always be the lips with a face.
The right in the wrong. Woman within the whore.
The digestif after the meal.
A baby with a pacifier in the mouth
Pleading for some milk.