'Volcanic' for International women Day. redux 2facebpook page016

This is a sister poem to one I wrote before or they might be darfts of the same poem I cant rememebr. You will see the fetus form of this poem oon my facebpook page but I have vastly improved it here with more adjectives and metphores. 

Go here for a similar poem that might be a bit the same in places.  Gaia poem or whatever it was called.

gifted twice over, amethyst, indingo 

with mauve oneness womanhood

and the poet's soul

sensory, sensitive, sensual,

I share with you

my soft silky softness

mother of pearl rainbow opalescents

but beware the egg of obsidian within

make it molten at your peril

I will fight you like a raving lioness

a multicoloured roarer borealis 

the constellation Leaena

mother to all things,

deflecting a popelectic nuclear bomb

the epitomy of maleness

in this man's, man's man's

folly of a world.

Part 2 written on International owmen's day 2011 for all the oppressed, women of the wold.

but I am fierce medusa fearless

unalone like sledge sister gorgons

hammer and hissing tongue 

with silvery, moonlit, siren song

smashing the cock sure rock hard ons

that rapier joust

raping our mother planet Gaia

spike spunking our drinks

polluting our water

with GHB, BP pumping hyperbole

WE

WE ARE MOLTEN STRONG

hot tit nourishing wisdom to the world

we are girls

let our stretched flesh unfurl

its love

as a mother shell yields a pearl

as polished as the most ecstatic clit

yet singular

not in a box set

bejewelled sex spurt

for what are we worth, mere trinkets,

like limpets?

[keep going - it gets even better soon]

or is this ne'er to be

BUT WE ARE SISTERS

not slash and burn misters

who quarry for blisters

and all that glisters that is not gold

for they are fools; there is no bling

shinier than when WE sing

our sirens' call

will see their male downfall

like a battlefield of dead Frank Spencers.

if not today

International day of women

then when

men?

[keep ging its not finished yet}

When will your passion for toil, oil, 

hats of tin foil

scorched mother soil, 

be done?

We shall rise, lava hot, like Surtsey,

breast like, thrusting, nourishing new life,

transitioning in our fast fashion

from the ocean spread, sea bed

like legs of  a labouring wench

waters break forth o'er Mariana Trench

WE DECREE

it will be

volcanic.

FOR WE

are international

women

of the world.