Poetry Camp (February)
Fox-Trot-9

Day 16: Death Is a Joker

That Death's a joker and a girl
   That fools around with you and me:
She lets her hair down to unfurl
   Upon the ground for us to see,
Ere with nude charms she woos us close:
How can we boys even suppose
      That Death's a joker?

We walk towards her in a trance,
   Lured by the bounty of her breasts
Moving and swaying in her dance,
   Becoming captive to her jests;
Then she moves and shakes her ass:
Ah, how can we mistake this lass,
      When Death's a joker?

How much I want to stroke her ass,
   How much my friend would squeeze her breasts,
The lusts of Hell would scarce surpass!
   And yet as we partook as guests
The bounty of our loins' content,
We fail to see her foul intent:
      For Death's a joker!

A hidden scythe awaits us both
   Behind our necks, ready to slice;
Then ere we both scream out an oath,
   We feel the fury of the scythe
Lop off our heads unto her feet!
Death is a slut; Death is a cheat;
      Gr-r-r, Death's a joker!

(To be continued . . .)

A/N: Believe it or not, I drew the above picture a while ago. And I hope this isn't too adult-oriented. Just working with the rhyme is all.