Black Rebel Motorcycle Club The Woman Organique

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The Woman Organique





and I have not been kind to all the women I have ever loved, then again I have never been

perfect, my fair share and More of mistakes...but to really ponder the woman is something else,

something suppressed, something like deity.

Woman is an individual creature

Most men cannot, cars, telephones, icecaps, and loose junk, men are breakable

when they speak of unbreakableness...but the woman has a holy side, a holy interior that

sometimes us men are not wise enough to navigate and store into our own brain compartments...

The Woman has a need, bigger than big Cock

more Precious than Heroin...

far more sublime than watching forest creatures

Woman has a Need to be Alone.

No Children, no racket, no motor pool, no car lane gossip, no ventilator, no essence...


A Hot wet Solitude...

Not during the Night, but during the Day

Woman has need for Sunlight

for hope

for rays of sunshine shooting like damaged stars through Her Window

and into the bathtub

prefibly with the bathtub model w/ feet.

Woman, the organique orchid of our hostile and petulant dreams

she needs Alone Time....

To dip rich in a hot bath and become one with herself again

She does the neutering

She does the monthly tampon deposit

she does the baby bursting

she does the seeing of stars and feels the implant of a sort of Christ...

she does the hot flashes

the bloody sheets

the menstrual  cycle

she does the chores

she does the kitchen

she does the outdoors

she does the menopause

she loses children

children that floated from her womb

like her heart being born all over again but on the outside of her ribs...

She loses life

she smells plants like a bee clings to honey

The Woman can Never be owned

She is a garden and a haunted Castle all at Once

God must have nearly gave up the ghost when they created Her

cause then again God is half male and half female

and mostly monkey and invisible something I couldn't speak for anymore

than a dragonfly can ponder my daydreams....

The Woman Organique

she is sometimes attainable

but constantly needs refuge

and she should have her space, her mercy, her

fresh refuge...

A Hot bath with Epsom salts, sea salts, ocean sands and oceanique fleurs

and a wild loose viola playing in the background to sooth her flurried mind....The Woman

Organique Dies a little bit everyday...her sons march away and her daughters fall apart like

ragdolls...and pills were never truly the answer....only a way to float over the waste ...

The Woman Organique needs hours to sit by sunlit windows and ponder the foreverness of it all...

to ponder the colours involved in the mystery of air particles laced throughout polish

her beautiful skin no matter what colour it may be, with lotions laced by Harmony...

Without Woman, Man would be un fucked and fucked.

The cart before the horse....

You didn't drop out of the sky man, you dropped out from your mother's womb

out of her garden sweet ethereal vagina, you unforgiving meat dirt spirit boy!

Somebody caught your breath as you vibrated helpless as a pebble falling from the roof

of a skyscraper with no direction or course... .

Let her have her hours

let her have her earned Leave

let her have her misty morning moments

and let her have her say and stay...

The Woman Organique

Lovely in every solemn way...

Hot bath

Fresh Window

perpendicular stars


her cold hand Holy on your forehead

count yourself lucky

bards have fallen

by her Sword

Woman is Holy

say it again,

Woman is Holy

know your fucking place...

young man.

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