The Drowning Pool
By The Walrus
© 2013 David Jasmin-Green
With potentially lethal fascination I watch
the bewitching undulations of the Undines,
my personal synchronised swimming team.
Gracefully my nine luscious lovelies flow
both with and against the mighty current,
frolicking effortlessly to and fro beneath
the deceptively placid surface of Black Lake.
Piercing green pussy cat eyes watch me lasciviously
from beneath the crystal clear waters.
The full lips of one incomparably fair maiden
break into a beckoning smile, a smile promising
fleshy pleasures beyond my experience -
or perhaps, I reflect, beyond my recall.
The beauty is still for a moment, and then
her ice white limbs are all a flurry,
her pert bosoms rise and fall breathlessly
and her long black hair flows majestically as
she wordlessly invites me to join the wild game.
I cannot avert my voracious gaze...
'They are evil!' my mother said. 'It's as simple as that.
The Undines are an intrinsic part of the cunning,
infinitely varied cacodaemonaical hordes of Satan,
the king of liars. They are demons in disguise,
tailless freshwater mermaids whose sole purpose
is to tempt foolish young men, men who think with
their cocks instead of their brains as the Lord intended
into joining them for a swim, which is invariably
their last swim on this sweet, bounteous Earth.'
'So why, mother, oh why are they so beautiful?' I cry.
'They are beautiful because ugly, scolding old harridans
with lines and wrinkles and wasted paps wouldn't tempt
a hopeless satyr like you into the drowning pool.'