Clitoria, the faithful gate keeper
The cheerful usher of seeds
En route the fallopian factory
To continue the human race
After nine seasons.
Two streak separates the
Journey from the venue
Where many are born
That entrance of ecstatic pleasure…
On hard-gentle pokes from the opposite
Ushering to the land called rapture!
Yet, many have gone from there…
Beyond the clouds,far into eternity.
Others have been cut short;
Many truncated still,
The power a woman wields.
Many sell to keep body and soul
Others natural feelings unfeigned
Causing many wars across history
And still doing painfully…
Between friends and brothers,
Between nations and continents;
The power a woman wields
But hear the creator’s manual at a halt:
Follow not your Clitoria to lethal ends
But as the Lysistrata of this generation!