Zeus’s daughter is on Tinder.
Luscious creatures of mortal birth
They train with the scientific zeal
Tesla lit up the world,
but dedication cannot elevate them
to the Zenith of Olympus.
The Goddess of desire has grown weary
of clueless nineteen year old boys.
While Earthly delights chase Adonis,
Aphrodite has chosen me,
for a few hours at least.
I’m an intriguing museum piece.
Does it still work, she wants to know.
She’s as superficial as spray on tan.
Athena thinks “I’m as hypocritical
as the no fat chicks sticker
on the ice cream man’s panel van.”
I am reaching for Aphrodite’s mind,
between gaping in awe
at her Isis humbling hips.
That’s a luxury apartment for triplets right there.
Yes, Isis, the Egyptian Goddess of fertility.
Aphrodite hasn’t stunned
any terrorist organizations into submission
with her delectable geometry lately.
Her Lusciousness finds His Quirkiness hilarious,
but won’t tax herself by responding beyond LOL.
Would she appreciate the dawn sun,
peeking above the waves,
if it was as grey as coastal soil?
Has she ceased lingerie shopping,
to wonder what that means?
Globules of glibness infect her goblet of glamour.
Maybe the Goddess of desire possesses
the acerbic wit to light Momus’s wick,
and embarrass Thoth in debate, chess and poker,
between out-pranking Gotham’s nemesis the Joker.
But all she need do to transcend the magic of genie’s,
is decorate herself with a stunning array of bikinis
and she knows it!
Tomorrow I’m Aphrodite’s fashion consultant.
The flowers on her short fluttery dress,
are sure to look more alive
than the fluffy, golden Acacia blooms
along the trail.
She’s every flavour I wish to savour,
but who’s the woman behind the myth?
Zeus’s daughter isn’t the only Goddess
in the Lotto of love.
Yesterday, Eleos entered the fray.
She transcends dessert, she’s every course,
in the juxtaposition of parallel universes.
Hot springs overlooking jungle horizons,
can’t compare to lacing hands
with the Goddess of compassion.
Everyone within her orbit is bathed in love.