Deadly Temptress

This poem it about the type of woman that all men, including so-called players, should avoid and be leery of.

 

 

She has the most luscious lips that have ever been tasted.

She can make the most sophisticated man act like a crackhead that’s wasted.

She has the kind of hips that make a eunuch’s blood boil.

Her seductive stare will make a poisonous snake unravel its coil.

Her way with words makes an Oxford scholar seem simplistic.

Her movements convey more than a Ph.D. of Linguistics.

She may seem harmless, but she is a force to be recognized, indeed.

She can weaken the most powerful men and make the mightiest warriors bleed.

This is a woman whose body you want to press beyond exhaust.

But you need to avoid her at all costs, or your soul will be lost.

She can manipulate the most brilliant of men and make them play with disease.

She can make a king sleep in his servant’s doghouse, and lie with its fleas.

If anyone trifles with her, they are placing their life on the shelf.

If you think you can outsmart her, you’re only deceiving yourself.

She routinely plays so-called players and burns them like matches.

She treats them like a lioness, leaving her prey torn with more than mere scratches.

This fatal vixen has already anticipated all details. It is not enough to call her tricky.

She replaced her drink out of your sight after you slipped her the mickey.

You thought you had plans on getting her into your car.

But, she saw this coming; you better leave your drink at the bar.

No man fully understands what the complexity and the cunning of her tactics entail.

One might say it’s ‘playing with fire,’ but, to be more accurate, it’s playing with Hell.

She can make the vilest lifestyle seem very heavenly, blissful, and sublime.

She can make the most righteous of saints become assassins and kingpins of crime.

Her house is not a place where anyone should want to visit or reside.

She and Death walk, run, and play, hand in hand and side by side.

Forget about marriage. Death is the only one qualified to be her groom.

Any other man exchanging vows with her will surely encounter his doom.

Her voice is as soothing and relaxing as a Jacuzzi or a babbling brook.

But you will wake up surrounded by flames with your soul being cooked.

She can nibble on your body in ways that will put your mind in space.

Afterwards, you won’t know who you are. Your reflection will be a stranger’s face.

If she allows you to lie with her, you might as well write your will.

The trap has been sprung, and you have already been killed.

She has the type of sensual prowess that will make the angels shout.

But if you enter her house, your body will get carried out.

She will scatter your mind, your possessions, and your morals like a spread or a paste.

Use the mind God gave you, and stop thinking with the head below your waste.

Your eyes may teem with lust; her dress may have an enticing, seductive slit.

However, that is one opportunity, you better forget.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Tara Jean Olson]

hmm, are you describing fondly of an ex?