"My opinion eh, small teengs make beeg diffrence...heh, heh... ^ ^ ..."
THIS IS A YEAR OF THE DRAGON CONTEST ENTRY
A Hidden Grave
Mix plate of my "prosetry" little bit Yakuza,little bit obake,some hanky-panky but ending good moral value not for young eyes, June Dragon contest
Awakened in the wine filled night
by a storm's chilling wind,
Flickering the candle lamps
through the balcony doors of the inn.
Loincloth clad the candles expose
my sacred Yakuza tattoos,
Horned ogres and serpentine dragons
inked in old traditions and hues.
A badge of honor worn hidden
only among is shown,
A creed etched deep in my soul
I will defend till death takes my own.
A favored harlot's whitened thigh
contrasts the tattooed hues on mine,
Perfumed breasts and luscious ruby lips
Sleeping breaths warmth scenting with wine.
She'll take you up to heights unknown
spoiling all who have tried,
Her undulating hips move
like on a back of stallion's ride.
Mounts on to a slow gentle gait
then moves to strides long and easy,
Ending she rides with full thrusting hips
your mind's in a state of frenzy.
Her head tilts back in ecstasy
squeezing your ending throbs,
As your loin's hot passions sate
she trembles with soft whimpers and sobs.
These nights I've always spent before
a life my razored sword must take,
Wallowing in my sinful pleasures
for my eyes in Sheol may wake.
Staggering on tatami mats
closing the shoji doors,
Shutting out now sleeting rains
lightning's flashes and thunderous roars.
Shadows of Sugi pine branches
like clawing hands reaching for me,
I stoke the sunken hearth's embers glow
its flames may dispel what I see.
The sleeping harlot slowly stands
turns with a face I've slain,
Taunting me with a haunting voice
my sword slashes through the air in vain.
Wine and now ire flows through my veins
as more haunting spectres appear,
My sword's lightning strikes shed not their blood
its lacings till now knew no fear.
Taking lives of those good or bad
my hired blade did not care,
Swords fell from hands clasped to beg
challenging me not just by my stare.
Only the good from death appear
their hands clawing in my soul deep,
Knowing a hidden grave lies within
where my guilt in a coffin sleep.
Awakened now and coming forth
tearing my soul apart,
Rivers of tears start to flow
I beg their forgiveness from my heart.
Faces of spectres slowly fade
as my spirit of guilt is freed,
Their hands from my heart also have wrenched
my tightly bound Yakuza creeds.
Divine hands tore down sin's curtains
filling my world with light,
Now my eyes can clearly see
life's pathways leading to wrong or right.
To a new commitment I've vowed
till my dying day it will stand,
My sword shall unsheathe only to keep
the innocent from evil hands.
The harlot turns and smiles at me
storm's now a distant sound,
Seeing my repentant tears
from her welling eyes the same flows down.
The rains now quietly dripping
in mirrors with a pale moon's glow,
It took life's stormy changes to find
this righteous life we've come know...
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