By Akula the Bindi Dyke
Her legs were as smooth as the surface on which I wrote words filled with desire,
Mother never told me women were a poem less appreciated by Mankind.
Mother never mentioned for once that women can become an impulsive obsession if one,
held their essence in the mind;
Her hair not on the head but on the body, a bit mosaic growth, was less attended upon.
But I loved different forms of her expressions.
You see, mother never told me these things, yet I observed.
The beauty less known in a womb where lies a fragile fetus,
Being born a girl child, SHE MUST GET KILLED.
And, Mother never told me,
Still I saw,
Now I speak,
Here i live,
How curious I have become to the fact that women have beauty every moment if you discover.
Like her eyes flashing each second meeting the new world with no regret or no shame.
These lost women about which mother never told me.
I stand here romanticizing.
Women yes women I love them,
Inside and out.