Camille

Camille

I wrote this poem one blustery winter’s day whilst watching this Congressional member on the news. I mailed it to him along with a truthful letter about his creepiness. I can’t even look at him without thinking what a sick evil perv he is. When I was staring at him, I had thoughts of being a female Edgar Allen Poe way back when. I will let you guess who it’s about. There are enough hints in the poem to figure it out. Good luck on guessing.  The man deserves to live in a hovel in the wilderness not a mansion in the district of criminals. He only helps himself and his communist comrades.

Did he write me back?

Heavens no, he did not.

Here’s Camille dedicated to one sick pos mfer!

Camille © Donna Rae Lands

Unspeakable acts were done upon the child.

It was stranger than fiction ever so mild.

Camille never knew.

What kind of nightmare would ensue on that cold day in 1882?

It was Paris France-not much time for art, dance or romance.

The gentlemanly stud fleeced her in.

Showed her a good time, showed her the ways of sin.

His name of fame was Jean Luke.

His creepy plan was not even a daring or a caring fluke.

It was enough to make you throw up and enough to make you puke.

She was only 14, innocent, young, and not very keen.

She also acted dumb, mute and quite serene.

She could write a clean note…to all the French passing blokes… who all were wearing their fancy French-evening woolen coats.

Jean Luke spotted her from afar whilst sitting in his luxurious…horse driven car.

He wanted to be set free from his sick obsessive destiny.

He had a plan in his balding head.

He would rape her, murder her, and leave her for dead.

A dice, slice, and bloody sacrifice would come to shreds in his evil seeking head.

Surprises were in store for the so called dumbass whore.

For Camille deepest secrets would come from within.

Shown to be the real and surreal, the Almighty him.

Disguised underneath was really Billy Jim.

Jean Luke was in for quite the shock, when Camille revealed… her lovely big ass cock.

The coup de grace was fast and quick.

It was with one slam and one bam…

Chopping off sick…Jean Luke’s French little dick.

None of the town folks ever knew…  Camille’s torturous…terror of blue.

It was a secret undercover…never to discover…Jean Luke’s lost boy lover.

Jean Luke died and cried that very day.

He was left all alone with no penis standing in his way.

The moral is told from within…

Be careful of who you invite in…for there is a price… a price to the wages of sin.

 

Camille

%d bloggers like this: