A Hundred Holes

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It took Alice a lot of luck,

To roam Wonderland till dusk,

To get past the rubble of hurdles,

Catch sight of that golden cradle,

Awaiting her in a room feared by rats and moles,

One adorned with a polished stump and olives on its mouth,

A room that one could walk into, but never come out,

A room with a hundred holes,

Barring the ceiling and the floor,

A hundred holes on its walls four,

To let in hundred rays of the Sun,

Every morning from the ceiling flashed a new handsome face,

Calling her to ride his masculine slide, make love at a swift pace,

A helpless Alice was deprived of the youthful fun,

Her privacy robbed by those hundred holes,

On that strange and primitive land of magic, eyes were always on a roll,

She couldn’t even get hold of a monstrous piece of fabric to curtain bold,

Where would she go? Where were the shops? Where were they sold?

So, she started blocking those holes with mud and clay,

A hole a night to start with, then four each day,

Soon, a wall was covered, yet she couldn’t fling out her lusty invite,

Scared of wizards, cooking up sorcery stews nearby,

So, ten holes a day, a little more labour took her to twenty,

Left was a dark and a gloomy space, now dim was the light, once in plenty,

Three rays shot into that room through the last three holes left,

Alice could feel a killing suffocation, herself out of breath,

Desire took a steeper turn that dawn,

From the ceiling, smiled Mr. Mojo, Sylvester Stallone,

She could dine with the beast for that masculine feast,

Impatient, she filled up all the holes in a lot of hurry,

To a Breathless end, only to sob her slipping moments of slavery,

Till she bloomed human in another life,

All over again seasoned into a sharper knife,

Grew young and wise into an attractive bait,

Her lust will have to wait…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

 

Image from: http://www.cepolina.com

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