It is all too easy to lay the blame

It is all too easy to lay the blame

For the crime on her.

The lusty looks

From drunken youths

The animal response

The base instincts

So easily stirred.

The temptation is too great

For simpletons with a low threshold

For intoxication

To respond with fevered violence

As a rite of passage.

The ritual of sly winks

A nod and a handshake

A band of brothers.

Even a lycra-clad woman

Alone in the park

Working out

In broad daylight

Can be fair game

To the entitled crew

The chosen few.

Nothing is further from the whole truth

Than one of the good old boys

Will be of pure thought.

The flesh is weak

Sin is thrust upon the brute

By the victim

Ending her days in a dirt-stained bed

Drowned in a cesspit

Hooked on a drug

Broken by life

Beaten as a wife.

Always at fault for the crime

No matter what the circumstances

The urge is too great

To be resisted.

No, is only a word

To be heard in retrospect

Not truly meant

Or to be taken seriously.

But as part of a game

With an outcome

In continuous replay

Throughout a land

Fit for heroes.

And the scarlet harlot

Can hardly complain

When treated with disdain

They are never virtuous but guilty

From the beginning.

Even the soft-bosomed old girl

With a big heart

Is still a tart

Sugar-coated though the truth may be

No silver spooned lame-brained

Hetro retro-bum

Takes soiled goods home

To meet his immaculate mum

But they will be his dirty secret.