We spoke of morality.
I listened, with respect
To your view.
For you
Are no mere object,
And I,
Do not objectify.
Women are ends
In and of themselves,
And not means
to another’s selfish ends.
The poet delves
Romantics play with semantics.
And poets obfuscate scenes.
Some girls dance
For the love of the thing,
And others For the security that a ring
does bring.
While others, with a fixed smile
Dance in bed
For they have bills to pay
Although it has been said
That some would rather be dead
Than go down that way.
Be that as it may
Will you condemn
Those who with men
Consort for pay
When the wolf
is baying at the door
And call them, “Whore”?
Or will you
Metaphorically flay
The lonely men
Who pay
For company,
And more
With a girl you label “Whore”?
Tell me
Who will you condemn?
Some men love the horserace.
‘Tis the thrill of winning
After which they chase.
Others prefer another kind of punting,
A hunting
After fallen women.
‘Tis a type of bet,
Which some call sinning,
Which may end in regret
Or pleasure, but never winning
There once was a man most moral
Who married a young lady called Coral.
But on their honeymoon
He found real soon
That she was most immoral!
—
There once was a man most moral
Who married a young lady called Coral.
But on their honeymoon
She made him swoon
As she was most immoral!
—
With my friend, who’s name is Holly
I live in a quaint old folly.
Sometimes at morn
A girl named Dawn
Joins us in our folly …
The maiden’s shapely bust
Engenders her lover’s lust
And the moralist’s disgust.
Lovers and moralists are soon dust
So let it be
For tis no concern of thee
Or me
And the wise agree
That there is no glee
In our final bed.
Bent magnets attract the attention
Of bad pennies,
Although I know
Not which came first,
Nor which is worst
If everyone were locked up for their fantasies
The prisons would be full
And the dull
Fool
Would rule
Over a land
Where hypocrisy held command
If all our fantasies where laid bare
For the world to see,
What would happen to you and me?
The bishop would no longer care
To have us round for tea!
Or if he did so
He might whisper low
“I have the same desires
But Hell’s fires
Are hot.
Besides I have got
A dragon for a wife,
But oh how I dream
Of whipped cream …!”
“This internet thing
Can only immorality bring.
I mean,
Imagine the scene
Where Jack can be Jill
(and almost certainly will),
For who can see behind the screen
Of this new fangled computer machine?”
In my day we had top shelf magazines
And watched scenes
On video
(on second thoughts best not go
There)!
Anyway I swear
That society is going to pot,
(have you got
Any by the way? …)”.
Deep in the soul
Where CCTV
Can not penetrate,
A devil does wait
And whispers, “my goal
Is to make you free.
Come with me
Where the light is no more
And see what pleasures are in store
For those who would ignore
Society’s law.
Empty the brain
And do not restrain
Your carnal needs.
Only the herd feeds
On the myth of The Fall.
Pleasure is all,
Come with me
And be free”.
One may look up to heaven above
And call upon God’s love.
But what if we are alone
In our temple of skin and bone,
With only our conscience weak
To speak?
Shall the meek
Inherit the earth?
I fear
There is a clear
Dearth
Of proof
In support of this “truth”.
K Morris - Poet 