Rand, sintillating oils

The painter who studied painted ladies
It was a carnal knowledge
He wanted to know
Curves of silk and cream
Each brush stroke
Lovingly caresses
It is how he longs to touch them
Smooth and supple
With a splash of light
He is creating them
His fantasy
Two fat ladies
Plump on wine
Draped in light
Legs intertwine and dangle
Like drapes in the wind
Ivory and gleaming musk
Flesh and horn tusk
In his fiery exasperation
He succumbs to them
His creation
Marrying an orgy of colors
Wet it comes
Until it dies out
Stroke upon stroke
Until it comes again
It comes into being
His wantonness and his being
Coming into actuality
He breathes life
Into creation
A creative cunnalingus
That comes, hard and fast
Like a judo chop
Seduction done
Fought hard yet won
Dance with the brush
A tango
Adding layers
Yet still in the nude
Sweat from his brow
Leaning against his easle
He likes it rough
Like his canvass
Scrapped all the way down
To the gesso
The fillacial chartreuse and ochers
Left behind