Native Soul, share with me your tribal lips in this wasteland of whispers,

Oh mad shaman can I kiss her?

Drink the sweetness of her elixir?


Lungs of dust, exhale me in swirls of ancient fire,

Dance upon my spirit with ravaged hunger,

Embrace me heartbeat's savage thunder.


Artwork by Arthur Hugot

Artwork by Arthur Hugot


Permit me worship those features, so sculpted From Great Mother's mocha soil,

Forged in the womb of sensual toil

To fill my engines with burning hot oil.


Native Soul, slip a moon rock between my lips,

Possess my body worship your hips

Upon the altar of the iris sunrise,

Sun set against the silhouette's third eye.



I will swallow you like the sun swallows the moon

As the red dawn ushers in the afternoon

With stains of scorched black earth,

Where I laid down to worship your church.


Goddess of the noble truth, sing to me primal visions of beastly ecstasy

And shed this social skin that makes us cold,

Adorn us now with robes of fur, so warm and bold.


Native Soul, great lovers can we be?

For I am the tiger, and you the turtle of the sea,

So shall I swim across this desert ocean

To taste your sunburnt lips with my devotion.


About the Author

Ponzi is an authorpoet and entrepreneur. He is currently doing the Bohemian Hustle in the village of Angels, co-writing a book on the 21st century fountain of youth. Contact him by e-mail. See more of his work at


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