Friday, October 5, 2012

The Temple.....

I am a Saint,
my religion,
The Church of the Box Spring Mattress...
it's a quiet church,
sometimes holds a couple,
of worthless souls.

I am a Bitch,
gave birth to seeds,
just watch them grow.
Gave them freedom of choice,
Scattered them across the earth.
They will knock on my door,
Someday, not Today.

I am a Madman,
its all in my "ART"
We are all "ART",
in process...
I will paint in wild strokes,
use your body as canvas.
I will drive you mad,
and you will be humble,
by the experience.

I am an Angel,
Wings given,
by the grace of ordinary women
Women you're under,
my protection.
I will lay you down like silk,
so I can find your wet spot.
Dry your eyes, and
Cry no more.
Women can heal women.

I am a Butterfly,
planting them,
in your stomach,
Give you chills.
But my I love you's
you will never have.
But your spine,
will quiver for my wings.
You will miss me,
but I will forget you.

I am Wicca,
Been making my brew,
casting spells,
with my Grandmother's eyes...
New Orleans Style.
Blues, and Voodoo,
Cards say...
Just lay down,
take it like a man.
Justice is swift,
but Sweet.
For we cast the light,
like grains of sand.

I am a Man,
lay you down,
with liquor,
and love....
Blow your head,
it's how I feed,
My Soul.
You're just a notch,
in my bed post.
So play the mouse,
I am the cat, that eats her prey.
Sorrys you will never hear.
You're my Fuck Toy.
Just a live dildo,
that doesn't ever need batteries....
I will walk over your,
spent body.
Keep on Truckin.....

I am a Child,
little wicked child,
that gave up her toys,
Looking to play with you.
Care to play a game?
I can pick the posies,
right out of your pockets.
Ring around the Rosies,
around that sweet little ass...
While I laugh,
behind my little girl,
upside down smile smile
Care to play again?
This little piggy goes to market...
Bow Down,
kiss my piggy toes!
Then I will make you,
Squeal like a Pig!
You're my favorite toy.

I am a Temple,
that houses all,
the different sides,
of you and me.
Come inside,
all is welcome.
If you don't bow...
The exit will guide you out.
I am looking for...
someone cut from my bone.
Thirsty for blood,
but turning it into wine.
As we drink from the cup...

 -MistressAnn Domina


  1. This wonderful poem shows MistressAnn is not only beautiful outside (as everybody can see on the picture) but also inside.

  2. This poem suffers from confused imagery and a trite message. Beyond that, I can't tell if English isn't the author's first language or she just is trying to sound posh by using choppy stilted verbiage. Whichever the case may be, the author needs to steer clear of poetry in the future as it is clearly not her strongest medium.