At the naked night
Confluence of confident gentlemen
Broke the ribs of the dusk
They browse, to make tough, the girth of the streets
To lubricate and eye the girdles
Hunger! To sharpen the pencil
There also come afar, the petal of sight
It brighten the street of beauty
The one that weigh their hunch as men
No need to know than this, but to strike
Methinks they can’t see
Visibly they eye her dove though
Growing, frontal tall, in the isle of her chest
Being petrified, afterglow, but escape to lust
Once! Her legs formed Y
While her stars, the two, beckoned to sky
But stood, beyond reach, so high
Now pipers’ players’ legs stressed to allow
Their pen to drop another ink
While swimming in her sea
Swiftly they reach hymen shore
And stranded in the bank of lust.
Though mother told her afore
Her seas should mum before dusk
To avert razor from that Gangan[i],
so her pride not to get lost
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