A Calf Of My Insemination.

Poem By sangay darock

Eventually a calf was calved,

with a star, stripe and a snip,

half stockings over the typical jersey fawn,

countenance of that double disc carved,

haunch weak and tender as lips,

hobbling over that yellow lawn.

reminiscing those days in OG ward,

all puerile ways to promulgate

then chances in routine for an insemination,

remember? for your chances how firm you stood like a guard,

facing trifles, almost a scuffle and then placate,

for it was all tyros' determination.

but opportunities did seldom knock,

of which some denied, some rendered but obfuscated,

to televise your fiasco with puce and puckerred face,

and your hair tousled, at the corner you lock,

yourself, and when a chance granted,

like a lunatic we used to prance.

with that young blood's exalting hope,

face dissolving in the ephemeral smile

and with one hand in the parrafined glove you commence

ha ha, to get lost in an enormous rectal globe

seeming dark, spacious and dimensions in miles,

to feel, none but dung in dense.

yet you remember; solution wasnt to renounce,

as from few to more the chances grew,

like the dexterity in my hands,

when one day my hard work of an ounce,

was to be remunerated as i knew

and the complexity to meet its end.

cervix anchored with the left hand then

in right a gun so held

crossing the blokades in tandem

that once stood bigger than a hill

vaginal fold, os then the rings

and that semen deposited in her womb

for which now a calf is calved.

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