In The Pink Room... (Inspired By David Lynch)

In the pink room, Lola was bathed In fluorescent light. Her toe nails Were painted blue. Lying naked On white, satin sheets, X- rated, Her smooth, sun tanned body looked so Divine! Her pert breasts how they glowed! An inviting smile was fixed upon Her face always. Like a trained dog, She seemed prepared to jump through any Hoop to achieve fleeting dreams. Spellbound, hypnotised, he soon bought Into the highly contrived thought That she was a modern Venus, But now he know that's meaningless, Because her performance was fake. Some jumped up pimp was on the make, As voyeurism is the norm, And Love has been replaced by porn. Ubiquitous screens now reveal Scenes that were private and concealed, Not many decades ago. Vice Corrodes all virtues in these times When anything goes. Moral codes Are out. Most just go with the flow. Yet deep- seated Catholic guilt, Pricks his conscience, and he admits That the old order was stable, Compared to crass, neo fables. Someone so much wiser than he Once quipped these apt words poignantly: 'Beauty is the splendour of Truth, And not the debasement of youth.'