Deadbeat Side
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”
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018