Once was an adorable city girl
Who thinks herself a goddess
Really, I wouldn’t agree less
In sexually provoking stances
She mouths with a glossy pout:
“I pray thee gentlemen
Take a good look and have thy fill
Isn’t a dog different from a dingo?
What it takes I have. . .
Getting what I want I shall”
Have you met the Maga-mistress?
Introductions she doesn’t need
A glimpse will just suffice
Caro herself would burn with rage
Beautiful face on a solid frame
Killer shape that none should hate
A figure that beats the eight
And a smart brain to run the game
I wonder what King Solomon has to say:
“. . .and thy breasts to clusters of grapes”
To what end?
Crème de la crème packages well
Plus a career that makes a purse swell
A body trader, in a nut shell
To the classy rich types she sells
And all but the “Magas” that spend;
Slow, foolish and gullible men
That pay and credit without “exchange”
ATMs that dispense without a “slot”
In no time they reached a dozen
Maga 1, Maga 2. . . Maga 12
Contact list clearly reads
Soon came a perfect date
A man and a cutie on a table for two
Tasty meal and a gentle hunk
A drugged wine that changed the scene
Stripped cloths, a hottie and a bed
Hazy figures of unclad hard men
A Maga convention of five commenced
Taking turns and having their fill
Helplessly she lay taking it all
Time was still, then quietly it crept
The creepiest day of her life behind
But the scar of the past is not benign
Her malady resists cure
Immuno-deficiency virus, the bug
A quiet goddess’s god
And the real Maga?
Distinguished ladies and gentlemen
I present to you. . . Maga 13.
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Señor Joe’s Blog is a year today!
Loads of thanks to you for your readership, comments/contributions. . . and shares.
Let’s do it again.