Here, the bifurcated portal
gateway of expanding life
smiles rebirth—transcends the Mortal
splits the double “you” of wife.
Hail the great democratizer;
let us all salute the Queen—
Mankind’s rosy equalizer:
She Whose Splendor Reigns Unseen.
Treasure trove of procreation,
tunnel of love and fleshly muse,
membrane of illumination,
countryside’s exciting views…
Organ played to heights celestial,
proving that our best is bestial
and our earthly home foreclosed:
Grant us now behold thy beauty,
worship at thy humid throne.
Let mankind discharge his duty
in thy sacred pleasure-zone.
Though Somali blades despise you,
though your maidenhood offends,
Egypt’s night will not disguise you
nor separate you from your friends.
The Baby-Hole, her baby-hole!
Turn back before you lose your soul.
Those walls of pink, those gates of pearl
grant entrance to each boy and girl
who come through this organic portal:
newly-born and merely mortal.
Mystery to be dignified—
explored, adored, objectified:
the baby-hole’s expanding chasm,
promising celestial spasm,
is limned in deliquescent love
and fits the soul as hand in glove.
Beware her tantalizing pull
where poetry turns vaginal.
From depths profound, God can create
(where man would merely masturbate,
hitting Mother Nature’s high note
as the gamete turns to zygote).
Semi-seconds’ spurting passion
years of living baby fashion –
after pleasure’s jest, gestation
thus augments the population;
teenage dads recalibrate,
unsure just what to celebrate.
Yet, if they knew the daring risk
their sperm endure, they’d slip a disc;
to realize what threatening odds
confront these flagellated gods:
(see Luke in Star Wars, [number IV]
battling fascists in the war
alone in the zone to shoot the shot
that blows the death star up. Let’s not
miss out on noting, in this theme,
life’s true conception. So the team
of X-wing pilots flew the run,
eliminated one by one
save Luke, who penetrated deep
the death-star’s ovulated keep
and overcame the egg’s defense
and hit the mark. It all makes sense.
The spheroid bursting in his sight
depicts Conception’s glorious might).
Therefore, show the matrix honor.
Shoot and leave—your star’s a goner:
nurture growth while life allows you,
while your star can still espouse you.
Seek her core of hidden gnosis
don’t just set off cell mitosis…
not, that is, unless you are sure
that the three of you won’t end up poor.