Sexual Conduct

"Sexual Conduct"

A narcissists flair, comes from their secrecy.

the lack thereof, comes from their pride.

Sex in the brain comes from their role plays,

my life comes from surviving the entire mire, oh my!

Oh! are they bitter, Oh! are they pissed, Oh! are they measured inside all of this.

A treasured proclaim! I must persist!!

I used to go to the bars down under,

deep in the town where the dark lights flicker.

Seemingly night but the broad day shone,

inside the places where grown men roamed.

The bars were called not dungeons or lairs.

Black leather coats and boots were in there,

spying was not in any of the heir,

I was just hanging, waiting for fair.

For nothing much more than a rub out to share.

Not so funny when you know more of honey,

the snuff did not go well I forgot, didn't fell.

Jumping from the fright of a suffocating sight,

throws even the biggest men on a really tough night.

Oh well, I thought, its not like you know me,

stop they said, don't move or we may get the bell.

Why in a place where sexual conduct is bent.

Why would you find what men really meant.

Why would they want to protect you from them.

Why would they offer nothing more than a mint.

Why would they be the ones to say BDSM.

Questions lingered in the air of that lair.

The black coats were leather and boots were entrenched.

No staring eyes, no ripping intent,

just a gentle goodbye and a kiss or some flint.

First time I wasn't ripped from those night terrors of mine.

Made sense to me and the men didn't mind.

My tears always wet me and I shook with such fear.

Now I can't know what it is you've kicked out,

 made it a show it is not I did shout.

Confusion did lather this kid that can say, 

thanks to the ones that could show me the way.

Its different, its louder, its mysterious too.

But, mostly its missing the advancement of you.

Protected forever, until it should stand.

Go Dominatrix, I think its a plan.

'cause woman just falter when their is a call,

I need a Master, A dominator, a shawl.

I think sex has become the conduct of all.

My number is easy, my number is rye,

my number works for you and even for I.

My mother assigned me saying again and again,

you are possessed and 666 please begin.

The demon of silence is laden within.

I'm printed on one side and beat on the other,

no master, no father, not even a collar.

Put down like a dog and fed what was odd,

which way do you turn when your at the bottom of the bog.

How often is it? 

Is it always my turn?

I stand with my truth,

I stand with my dare, 

I doubt I was ever hurt over there.

Only at home, with family declared,

the scariest moments to ever have weared.

Good night my dear Master,

good night to my rights,

to be free of disaster and live without fright.

To the faith of the few,

and the memory of you,

sexual conduct and rules of the true.

Karen A. Placek

4/22/2011