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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required O Aphrodite, Grecian fertility goddess Matriarch idol of the womb, your wise children love not reproducing — Ancient Zion chant heard in the echo chambers of the caverns along the Aegean sea Dwindling cries, dashed on the rocks in luxurious maternity wards, are slowly dying The first joyous tear burst of life ... alas, increasingly are less and less heard, much too infrequently The Garden of Eden edict has been cast aside “Be fruitful and multiply” no longer is this the gold standard to godly live by It’s all black-and-white, with no gray area of uncertainty So who put the kibosh to the Paradise blessing decree? I’m ashamed to say, it’s the ivory deadbeat side of my human family My distant kin has gotten so bad seed crazy, alabaster lazy Global census numbers don’t lie It’s a down-to-earth fact, not a spurious say-so! The rice patty buns in the oven are rising slow Lily chalk stork cries, for conveinence sake, are always tossed aside Left to maternal tear dry stillborn die Again, the biological numbers tell the empirical evidence true story, the umbilical inside skinny Only question is: what’s the porcelain why? My ivory deadbeat side of the family, I don’t wanna hear no idle crap, ear-candy marshmallow alibi Family branch of the ivory few, your numbers have steadily been shrinking for a very long overdue lullaby time The selfishness that you pursue, got your troubled posterity so busy thinking — short-sightedness is a genetic crime It’s hard for me to tell you, but you been laboring the least Coming up way short in the maternity infant deliveries Now why is it that my ivory kin gotta be so porcelain deadbeat Only wanna do half-measure labor; always up for laying down to some free love, being an intimate good neighbor Two sugar cubes who never choose a cuppa cold coffee no latte maybe Then getting the decaffeinated pregnancy blues, not willing to pay the cost of having a priceless baby My ivory deadbeat kin don’t want none of that parental slave labor They eschew being captive to the never-ending enamel needs of a baby There are sly reasons a-plenty as to why the satin smile numbers don’t multiply Snowflake lullabies ain’t many, abortion closed the womb ... stifled any cradle cry Oh, my ivory deadbeat side of humanity, so many unwritten blank pages left womb empty A word to the wise, duly sent to my lazy alabaster kin: make no empty quiver invest As the Morning Star arises from the east ... tho’ your womb labor travail be the least, dry fruit of a barren harvest will be more than you can gather in Fools never recognize Vanilla biblical slackers don’t wanna abibe by the Holy command Gospel malware hackers don’t wanna populate the Promised Land Deadbeat birther eyes won’t ever glimmer comply to the Living words cast in die: “Be fruitful and multiply”
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