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Mystical Feminine

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs
Without fear of the future.”
What mystical one

And whose breath re-enlightens the depleted space
Where humanity suffers? She is one with grace
…Nothing bestowed upon her but truly homespun.
Turning chaos to love is but one of her crafts.

It’s a Show of her Power to Speak to us All
Of the will to be kinder, passed out in our hearts.
Laughter can be a weapon. She knows this too well.
But then egos are meaningless, so what the hell?
She knows this is the issue, and where hatred starts.
Her most delicate wisdom does make her stand tall.

Is life much about fashion? As men are the same
But that we call it ego, no one will explain.
Goddesses become goblins? No, that is reversed!
If we can’t look up to her, we’re bound for the worst.
Expressing the True Goddess is not being vain.
Can this world know what’s coming? There’s much to proclaim.

Rights Worth Fighting For {?}

Standard Depiction of Patriarchy

If we’re doomed to identify with body parts
As but One Race, then why not did we choose the brain
Or the heart or some other part? Why sex organs
Have become for us magnets with legs, arms and hands
With one sex of more value is perfectly plain.
We worship the economy. That’s where it starts.

As it was then, the ‘go-getter’ is of value.
Everyone in the household gives him their support.
No one else is of mention except for the wife
Who looks after the kids and ensures a good life
For the more worthy workhorse. Designed to distort
Our perceptions, society has not a clue.

When we say, “He’s a big man,” has he a big heart?
It means he has a bank account fatter than most.
Women, by the mere fact that they excel at birth,
Are who we should be honoring. They are Our worth.
Yet, within men and money, we’re fully engrossed.
We make women subordinate. This isn’t smart!

What happened a while back? Many women took aim.
But, amid much confusion, the target was lost.
Women started believing that they should be men.
Do we mimic the mess and return once again
To the ways of perversion and gain at all cost?
As a society, we’ve not much depth to claim.

The front end of our culture should be consciousness.
If it’s not, then the fate of antidepressants

Will continue to be that of half our women.
When we recognize all people as equal, then
Evolution of society is immense.
The economy, and all else, will yield success.

Cocksocket Mismatch

To conflate rhetorically morality and mechanics

Someone grab that Cocksocket before it gets loose!
Lefty Lucys are legal, but only so far
As the man’s eye can stand it. Demand it, he must,
That he have full control of the whole hole. Unjust
Is the female contraption who’s not like a car.
The mechanic says there’s no such thing as abuse.

Who denies that the cock is a versatile tool?
It can brute force most stubborn things back into shape.
With the wave of the phallic wand, what was once law
Is now broke dick endangered. There must be a flaw
When every swinging dick has the license to rape.
Tools are inanimate, so how can they be cruel?

There’s a Cocksocket Mismatch. It’s not a tight fit.
There’s a sense of anxiety. Flesh is at stake,
And it’s that of one gender – the female machine.
What would happen if Spirit chose to intervene?
Of all tools in the toolbox, which one will it take
To restore what’s been settled? Why all the bullshit?

We Gotta Get You A Woman!

TheMagicRealist.com


Hey there, Sam! Is that you?
We’d thought that your partner would stay ever true.
Compromised before our eyes… Entrapped within white petty lies…
Most women know that they will pull us through.
There’s only one thing that we’ve left to do.

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
It’s like nothin’ else to make you feel that you will survive.

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
We can pre-celebrate because there’s no time for waitin’.

Sammy boy, you’re the one
Who’s personified us since our fate had begun.
We can feel discontentment. We know you do too.
…Woken up from a wild night, we’re all feelin’ blue.
You done married the bitch! He done gave you the screw! So…

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
It’s like nothin’ else to give you courage to carry on.
We Gotta Get You A Woman!
Pretty soon well be votin’. Much time is worth devotin’

…To talkin’ ‘bout livin’ lives in much better ways.
Until now we’ve been caught up in malaise.
Fairly soon we will see better days.
But we’ve got to care enough that we pull this thing together

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
It’s like nothin’ else to make you feel that love is alive.

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
Leadership of a woman could well make our nation thrive.

Talkin’ ‘bout things like thick ceiling glass
That had almost been broken but for some world class
Operation that lead to the major impasse
That befalls us, a woman may well kick some ass.

We’ve got to hook you up with one who has been around.
There are plenty of good ones. Indeed, they abound.
She may show you that what has been lost can be found.
Sam, it’s time to listen to a different sound.

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
We Gotta Get You A Woman!
We Gotta Get You A Woman!

And after we do, we may live life anew.

Popularia Febrifica

TheMagicRealist.com

The most Popular Fever afflicting the souls
And the hearts of some women who’ve reached middle age
Is concern for the herbal as a remedy
For related discomfort. Some indulge in tea
Hoping that lofty promises are a true gauge
Of their product’s effectiveness and of its goals.

It can be in Pueraria if it’s the best
And exotically cared for by smart native elves
Who imprint their indigenous blessings upon
Every magical fiber from midnight ‘til dawn.
What we would call Mirific, they would not themselves.
To remember the names of things is the big test.

One can bang out an aria on a keyboard.
It could be that Pueraria is a mistake
Because taking it may wreak some havoc, at worse.
To the volatile body it could be a curse.
When it’s safe to experiment for one’s own sake
Then wellbeing for all women will be restored.

A Fist Full Of Pipe

TheMagicRealist.com

Grab a bitch by the cunt? That’s one elegant stunt.
How does one snatch a bowling ball or a six pack?
By the holes in loose thinking, then verbal escape.
If dick talk is off-camera, are we in good shape?
Every prick comes off heavy when on the attack.
Are our ways of perceiving, themselves, an affront?

History takes on color with tiny events.
Nothing from us is hidden in this day and age.
On the threshold of brain scans and truth-telling drugs
There is no better way to sort out all our thugs
Than by indecent acts in which leaders engage.
Some don’t mind the affairs of our bad presidents.

So, A Fist Full Of Pipe and a handful of jewels
Is the way to check manhood – a win at the polls.
It is much easier to grab men by their dicks
Than it is to beat women with blunt verbal sticks.
May the coming pink wave have mercy on our souls.
History may be kind and not paint us as fools.

The Ruling

TheMagicRealist.com

Don’t be hoein’ while flowin’. Do take a damned break!
By the way, what you do for a living is wrong.
You’re not of the right gender to make the big bucks.
We’ll equate you with life, and you know that life sucks.
You should be making babies and polishing shlong
But for only one pimp for whom you’re his namesake.

You know how to wear makeup and fuss with your hair
And learn difficult footsteps while wearing high heels.
These are privileges given you by this great land.
You have rights, and those aren’t. You’ve no right to demand
Self control of your frail bodies. Weakness appeals
To the sex drives of rugged men most self-aware.

If you challenge our ruling, you’re fooling with fire.
If you think we aren’t serious, just call our bluff.
Need we fight you or smite you with stiff penalty
For insisting to be who you decide to be?
Women are moving forward but is that enough?
It depends on how much thirst for truth they inspire.

Southern Bell

TheMagicRealist.com

To speak ever so daintily with a loud ring
Is a talent befitting a woman of grace
From a culture evolved from the most urgent need
To discover new land and to justify greed.
That was then. This is now, though. What is commonplace
Is that strong southern women are not a new thing.

In the air, there’s a ringing sound, clear as a bell
And so loud it debilitates from inside out.
It is masculine chatter – the noise of defeat.
Does the feminine matter, or rather conceit?
Can a strong counter resonance carry some clout?
Is it possible for all to get along well?

Southern women were vibrant, intelligent souls
Who indeed were the plantations’ lubricant oil.
Nowadays, all American women possess
What is needed to clean up this masculine mess.
What ill nature of growth comes from blood mixed with soil?
Can more women in leadership reshape our goals?

Helping Girls Find Their Voice

TheMagicRealist.com

She has found her heart’s dream helping girls find their voice
Through theater that’s youth driven and well performed.
Many girls she has taken to faraway lands.
Through her efforts she ensures that each understands
Fresh young women’s mystique reminds the uninformed
That all women and men are deserving of choice.

We each choose gloom or happiness, so we are free
Not to look for love outside ourselves on our way
Toward the next new beginning, but to look within
For our value and honor. With self we begin
To be ever receptive and willing to play.
In a world of diversity I want to be.

We have not heard girls’ voices enough. Is this so?
May the answer be found in the way we all feel?
All things come by attraction, and hardly, by force.
There is only one actor, and that is our Source.
We will never come to a world that is ideal
And without every young voice, our progress is slow.

God Hangs Out in The Strangest of Places

TheMagicRealist.com

Many men will find God somewhere near a girl’s butt
And it might as well happen since God’s everywhere.
Among butts, He’s not hiding. He’s out in plain view
Taking pride in His fine work and blessing it too
They’re designed so that young men will put their eyes there.
And they might end up finding there, heaven knows what.

Place that butt on a platter of silver or gold.
Put it up on a pedestal. Let it perform.
To stir up some excitement, they fashion their walk.
And it matters the least bit that others may balk.
I appreciate girl butts. I’d hope that’s the norm.
As I take notice of them, I’ll never grow old.

Women’s butts are a blessing. They need no disguise
Nor a statute of censorship to keep us tame.
They’re released into nature that we may be sure
That all notice God’s handiwork, sacred and pure.
Staring at that butt package is part of the game
And a helpful distraction for those who are wise.

Every Princess’s Dream

TheMagicRealist.com

What do little girls dream of? Why would a man care?
Were not women once little with bigness of heart
And with hopes made of magic, fulfilling delights?
What suspense all-consuming awakes her at nights?
If I knew every answer, would that make me smart?
I would be but her subject. I’m quite happy there.

We are caught up in pageantry. That’s just my take.
I would wonder what legacy should be passed on.
Little girls all have beauty and talent and grace.
We exalt competition. We make babies face
Early on a malignant dependence upon
Other people’s approval. And much of it’s fake.

Every Princess’s Dream is to know she is love
Of the purest variety e’er to be known.
She would dream that all grownups would know this as well.
Every little girl’s magic will cast a love spell.
We have lived out our lives. We should leave theirs alone.
Every little girl’s dream is a gift from above.

CuntScape

TheMagicRealist.com

All alone in a CuntScape, at last, for a while,
I take in all I can with the senses at hand.
The thin smear in a dish may be what becomes me,
Yet the function is fettered if we only see
But a flesh of an orifice to a strange land.
Cunts will come out in force as men stand in denial.

I believe that it’s time that we put up a wall
Of warm, feminine flesh with its softness of touch.
Cunts can let themselves let themselves be beaten down
Just because they get nasty when dick is in town.
That dick masters in nastiness matters not much.
Put a cunt high in office, and let the dick fall.

Is it true that a cunt can behave like a  dick
In the open theater upon the world stage?
I believe so, but that matters little to me.
What a dick does, a cunt does, most definitely.
But a new breed of cunt force is coming of age.
Things will get hot and nasty, then change may come quick.

Mistress Therapeutia

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

Your Mistress Therapeutia is always on call
Since the time of the dawning of Woman In Charge.
This puts Man in a frenzy. His dick at stake
As he fears minds of women may be more awake
And in tune with humanity’s worth, by and large.
Men should stand right behind them with hearts proud and tall.

Strong Mistress Therapeutia knows management well.
She is built to build families from foundation to
The most creative folds within nature’s cortex.
The embellishment of nature’s loving vortex,
Women’s bodies are sacred. This fact rings anew
As the women forthcoming are willing to tell.

I can live for that coming of age once again
When the warrior Woman commanded the tribe.
And there weren’t many wars because women kicked ass.
Many wars went unfought due to critical mass
Disengaging in tune to a more loving vibe.
I’m delighted to see women challenging men!

Buttock Brothers Hosiery

TheMagicRealist.com

We are Bob and Bill Buttock. Don’t give us no guff!
We have built a Brick Shithouse – One Hell of a store.
We know well what all women want next to their skin.
It’s a fact we know all things. So where to begin?
We’ve got feminine treats – affectations galore.
We are big businessmen who just go for that stuff.

We’ve no training in ‘Woman’ – no schooling at all.
Men can tell what a woman feels by how she looks.
If she looks like a flea-bitten bat on a fast
We can make her look healthy with duds that will last.
Our fine goods are of quality. We are not crooks!
Our commitment to help women makes us stand tall.

Stick your nose in our Buttock. Do come by today.
There’s a special promotional deal going on.
Buy a length of our hose at the regular price
Then we’ll shove you another one because we’re nice.
You may browse in content ‘til a new day will dawn
When all women of business will have it their way.

The Dick Whisperer

TheMagicRealist.com

Only music can soothe the wild arrogant beast
As it rises, though basketed in nature’s weave.
There’s no mind in the toilet, here. I speak with grace.
And I wouldn’t be caught with such egg on my face.
There are blatant life substances that we perceive
Also subtler energies we know the least.

When the dance that goes on, as the music is played,
Does approach living rigor, the stage is well set.
The dance, having triggered an elegant trance,
May program men for anything – even romance.
With dick under control, it then poses no threat.
The strong will becomes languid. Response is delayed.

It requires a skilled one to play music well.
No matter of fact out ranks this simple one.
One’s control of the beast must be constant and sharp.
If not careful, one could end up playing the harp.
This is The Dick Whisperer’s idea of fun.
For the beast, though, it could be a version of hell.

From Cotton Field to Prison

TheMagicRealist.com

Why Black Men are in prison is no mystery.
No sociological study is needed.
No well-crafted survey can capture the pain
Of the Bitches who put them there. Could I refrain
From the use of brute force when my sense is not headed?
This drama is played out throughout history.

Sour notes can be read. They don’t have to be sung.
And to feign utter silence is way below par.
You say you want everything from your black man?
Any fool with a brain would have picked up and ran!
Why depend on some man to define who you are?
You treat him like a wasp then ask why he has stung.

Why not give up such talents as rolling your eyes
And that trick sliding head thing you’ve practiced so well?
It takes courage to deal with that knot in your face.
This is not about color and not about race.
It is easy to put any good man through hell.
Does it make any sense to applaud his demise?

Talk To Me, Mama!

TheMagicRealist.com

Krakkabukkle-KaBoooom! That’s what I like to hear.
Mama Nature is talking. Let’s give her respect.
Whether quick burning arrow with rumble in wake
Or night whitening flashes that know no mistake,
Nature’s message is clear. Our fair ego is checked
By the Masterful Lady who crafts Atmosphere.

Show your thundermost cloud! Let me feel you shout loud!
Even though I can hear every whisper you speak.
There’s a world who don’t know you. You have every right
To react in a voice of intent and of might.
Strike me dead. I will join you. It’s truth that I seek.
I’ll commune well among you. To you, I’m avowed.

Why I make such a habit to hear Mother speak
Is a thing of scant value to ponder too much.
I just like a fine Mama who’ll run it down hard.
One is ill to complain that She plays the ‘wet’ card.
She’s one bitch you can’t fuck with nor lie to or such.
She’s the feminine version of deadly mystique.

A Most Literal M

TheMagicRealist.com

M could be for Matter. We’re all made of some.
It’s a consonant catered to personal glee
That could mean any number of beautiful things.
It’s the essence of M-ing for which the heart sings
When a detour through eye level leads to the sea
And momentum ensues like the beat of a drum.

M could stand for Messy or Menses the noun
As the mind mingles meaning, malfunction and more
In attempt to decipher why nature must play
In promoting such urges that cause due dismay
For those of a flavor not prone to ignore
That magnificent manhole just south of the mound.

One may wax anti-lingual and labor the view
Of the sequitur logic against sucking face
With another one, hairy, of mucous and warm.
Nature caters, in time, to what’s not the norm.
Why is man sloshing sultry beset with disgrace?
When it comes to linguistics, is M good for you?

I must think of that M just as if it were me
Since we’re most made of microbes; from mother they came.
Could it be that when nature finds man in a rut
She gives the command, “Get Good Guys in your Gut!”
To help out with digestive health just the same
As the flower most surely gets help from the bee?

Horace the Humping Horror

TheMagicRealist.com

Do listen up, girls, there’s news I must tell.
It’s disgusting and quite disappointing to me.
That Horace guy whom the boss hired last week
Asked me out on a date with his caveman technique.
I agreed to sleep over just so I could see
If this fellow could work his machine very well.

It was tragic, dear ladies, don’t sleep with this man.
You will bounce like a basketball being not bound
To hitting the floor every once in a while.
The man is a menace; I guess that’s his style.
I was looking for love, but a humpbeast I found.
So avoid this asshole the best way you can.

I hadn’t faked orgasms much until now.
No need to do so had ever occurred.
But this jack hammer Horace, although he’s endowed,
Must lose the damned hard hat, for crying out loud!
We are not made of concrete, but he hasn’t heard.
Don’t ask him to slow down; he wouldn’t know how.

My Pupils Are Not In School

TheMagicRealist.com

As portals draw their shades unto the brightness of the day
Discerneth not beholder seeming either be the seam.
The night is not my mystery, Intuit I what may.
Behold my heart and soul devoid of inter-placed extreme.

What stare at you… not eyes of blue nor pools of emerald green
But quantum singularities a pair and focused from the earth.
The grace of ancient majesty in this day intervene.
The hearts of men in leadership may hinder our rebirth.

My eyes do see a glory that is here and ever now.
The older blood is tainted, misaligned and disagreed.
My glory knows a passion deep yet practical somehow.
Who dares to know that I may glow? Do I appear in need?

Fine Cheese Cutlery

TheMagicRealist.com

It Seems I’m a cutlery connoisseur
Carved from the standard manifold cloth.
I know, ‘parts is parts’ and it’s sexist and crude.
I ain’t here to please no one; my truth ain’t subdued.
Some good hawty cutter’s the flame to my moth
As it stiffens its wing and takes flight from what’s pure.

Cups and saucers are good; I will take them or leave them.
They’re not part and parcel to good table setting.
But a lady with cutter makes my flatware to stutter.
It will slice through my man mind as if it were butter.
I’m the butt butler’s cuddle no cutler’s regretting.
A girl with big bounteous behind is a gem.

It is locked in my jeans to track walking machines
That jiggle that butt from one side to the other.
Such cutter with grip handle hub double wide…
Were my gender reversed, I would wear that with pride!
There are still many things I would not tell my mother.
Spend some time in the Kitchen by whatever means.

Rebels on the Roam

TheMagicRealist.com

Rebels on the roam
Rebels on the roam

They’re wrath means something’s wrong
They curse the word ‘shalom’

Now tens of thousands strong
Deep sadness they prolong
Rebels on the roam
Rebels on the roam

It is change they’re fighting for
That is why they cling to war
Really, any change will do
‘long as it is something new

They believe Islamic law’s
The way for one and all
Thank you for the clue
Much obliged to you

Women understand
That most war’s because of man
The whole of planet earth
Seems infected with some klan

Release the utter dearth
Recover female worth
Woman, take our hand
That we may understand

Womanifesto

by

TheMagicRealist.comI Am Woman

Mother, daughter, beloved, virgin, crone, wife, and lover

I am divinely feminine, vulnerable, strong, and eternally and internally in balance with my masculine god force.

I am alive to fulfill my assignment as a warrioress of the truth, and destroyer of all that no longer serves the embodiment of female principles.

Female principles include living by the codes of light, love, equality, compassion, passion, right livelihood, honesty, transparency, and grace.

I meet each day reaching into my feminine soul for recognition, as well as meeting opportunities to reach into other souls in recognition of their essence.

Woman is creator of all in harmony with God. One without the other is like an angel with one wing. Together we fly in a formation of winged ones, singing praises of thanks and gratitude in the Psalms of sisterhood.

Testoster-Onus and the Dynamics of Counterdickwise Motion

TheMagicRealist.com

Some religious books tell of a garden somewhere
Long ago in a land now consumed in a dust.
We all know that sad story, but let me be clear
With a bit of a twist that might fancy your ear.
Take a breath of fresh air. Take a swig if you must
Because this one’s a tale that will cause some to swear.

There are X cells and Y cells and none in-between
Yet what is untold through convenient omission
Is that Y cells are X cells just minus a leg.
The truth is men might have a pardon to beg.
This observation should spark one’s volition
To think of a ‘Genesis of the Obscene.’

Maybe Eve was made first and not Adam, as written.
Then Goddess cast Eve in a powerful spell.
While in play dough mode Goddess then started to play

A piece that was lost manhood claims to this day.
Awakened from slumber, Eve said, “What the hell…?”
There was never a snake, and no apple was bitten.

Quadrilateral Bowel Tracks A Hole With A Howl

Quadrilateral Bowel Is Hole With A Howl

Lock on to that hole; do surrend’ it your sight
It’s a moving target deserving attention
Wildly wet blasted touch, such a forceful display
When Nature decides to check in in this way
The mind in Her will does defy comprehension
But follow it, still, even all through the night

…And then on through the day, and then over again
Its meaning thus churning, digestion is sure
Yet, the same old matter ne’er passes away
It just circles the system for day after day
So as the thing dampens we feel more secure
All focus reset for a new now and then

When as innards assimilate ass of eye food
Whom does go last? The hose or the hosed?
When the hole passes this way I will know
Intestinal quickening before solid flow
For a quick selfie I will not have posed
I’d be cut to the chase in excited mood!

Well, Nature’s howl should make news, I suppose
Like any mother, she’ll not be ignored
Whether children act up or they play really nice
Mother Nature’s concern is a throw of the dice
With Her for a mom we are not to be bored
When and how She speaks next, nobody knows

Trickle Down The Moon

Trickle Down The Moon

Go with the flow,” she says to me,

As e’er I compare and in vain I complain.

To Be is ALL there is, you see.

The rest is serendipity.

Be bold as the lily in the field of rain.

It does its dance.  It asks no fee!