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"Scentsuality" of Her Strange Fruit
“....the scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
the prickly scent of her arousal,
burnt offerings of her carnal flesh
sinewy black bodies swingin' in the Southern breeze
alluring, strange fruit hangin'
from surreal poplar trees
bending in the breeze"
beautifully contoured shapes
hang from the old crooked trees
Strange fruit? Not so strange to me.....
Falling short,
just north of the Mason-Dixon Line
Sun ripened melanin
Oh how her skin reflects the master's light
Ol' sol....oh how brilliantly she shines
(the perfection of my ideal)
swinging from that poplar tree
oh how I wish that the body
swingin' beside her,
lawd how I wish it were me
for this song, sings not of the
finality of a bitter death "be not proud"
but life's bitter-sweetness
it's lust and longing steals away my breath-and leaves me
gasping out loud
the seduction of her deep, dark eyes
a story built across the ions of time
the intertwining of kindred souls
the “ties that bind” doth begin
to unwind
spinning and clutching
the warm breezes, caress
languished spirits touching
no longer hushed up in death
yielding a release of moments long ago
delusions of grandeur,
love we made during a time
when both our lives “was” low
I laid my hands firmly against your plow,
the melodic tingle of wind chimes
ring hauntingly now
we twist together lifelessly
inside the distant echoes
sounds from days gone by.........
…...beautifully contoured shapes
hanging from the old crooked trees
Strange fruit? Not so strange to me.
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