Every single male
Quickly avoids her gaze
And some go as far
As to hide a furtive face
They make it quite obvious
She’s not welcomed here
In the lion’s den
Where their souls are bare….
Some hide in the dark
Not expecting much
Others walk in circles
Seeking a slow touch
I’ve seen wordless couplings
Against defaced walls
In the lion’s den
Where spirits are mauled
Yet she walks among them—
A woman alone
Surrounded by lust
And spasms that pass for love
Unmindful of stares
By the sentient beings
Of the lion’s den
Where fantasy is king
Moans and cries of pleasure
Lead her down the hall
Where a darkened theatre
Beckons, then, enthralls
Slouched-over figures
Watch her in slow motion
In the lion’s den
Where sin’s their devotion
Not one dares to speak
Some unzip and wait
Ready to approach her
If she takes the bait
But she’s an observer
Not there to be used
In the lion’s den
Where life is abuse
Love has no purpose or use
After a short while
She vacates her seat
Some men feel offended
Some call her a tease
Soon she’s out the door
Far from hungry eyes
In the lion’s den
Where we all pay the price
It’s the lion’s den: We must bare our souls
It’s the lion’s den: Our spirits are mauled
It’s the lion’s den: Fantasy’s our king
It’s the lion’s den: Devotees of sin
It’s the lion’s den: Where we’re all abused
It’s the lion’s den: If the price is right
No one is refused.
