Thanks to his new lobotomy
Surgeons tool did brain sodomy
He no longer drools
Still acts a fool
Patient thinks he won the lottery
at the end of the day
they come to rest on my breasts
men with important jobs
men with issues at home
who needs tissues
to wipe off their shameful tears
they come in different colors and needs
men with timeframes to finish projects
men with egos to protect,
men with a lot to hide even from their loved ones
they come to rest on my breasts,
to cry, to shout, to bite and to curse social norms
that got them in unwanted marriages
that got them in unwanted sodomy from their church priests
they come at the end of the day, every day –
to take a brief break from their easy lives, and rest on my breasts –
Dilemma
I’m living two lives
and that is my dilemma;
I’ve one life to live.
***
Note:
Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) was a famous Irish poet, novelist, and playwright who was arrested for “gross indecency” on April 6, 1895, and was convicted of “sodomy,” for which he served two years hard labour (1895–1897) at Newgate Prison in London, England.
It's not just young couples making a choice
I am for life please have your baby, okay
It's a farce about the tissue inside, mother has no voice
Having an abortion Dr. makes an incision
It's gets much darker, still to this day
Incest, rape, not her decision
Fundamentalists look away
after unwanted baby is born
Assuming the poor can afford
Self-kit abortion leaves her torn
Aretha Franklin, raped by her father's inside men
Save the baby? Mother dies? They'll decide
No choice of hers, pregnant at ten
Spent her youth trying to hide
More stories like these will unfold in the end
They don't hate Gays—they hate what Gays do
It's sodomy, old laws make a come back
Couples shouldn't do that, yes them too!
Healthcare, abortion Mills under attack
In your own home, behind closed doors
Blaming women for wanting pro-choice
The ignorant call you heathens and whores!
1886 BROADWAY BETWEEN 62ND & 63RD STREETS
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29 June 2021
Burn, Ovid
by Michael R. Burch
“Burn Ovid”—Austin Clarke
Sunday School,
Faith Free Will Baptist, 1973:
I sat imagining watery folds
of pale silk encircling her waist.
Explicit sex was the day’s “hot” topic
(how breathlessly I imagined hers)
as she taught us the perils of lust
fraught with inhibition.
I found her unaccountably beautiful,
rolling implausible nouns off the edge of her tongue:
adultery, fornication, masturbation, sodomy.
Acts made suddenly plausible by the faint blush
of her unrouged cheeks,
by her pale lips
accented only by a slight quiver,
a trepidation.
What did those lustrous folds foretell
of our uncommon desire?
Why did she cross and uncross her legs
lovely and long in their taupe sheaths?
Why did her breasts rise pointedly,
as if indicating a direction?
“Come unto me,
(unto me),”
together, we sang,
cheek to breast,
lips on lips,
devout, afire,
my hands
up her skirt,
her pants at her knees:
all night long,
all night long,
in the heavenly choir.
Keywords/Tags: Ovid, god, religion, church, Sunday school, sex, sexy, sensual, lust, desire, passion, choir, hymn, hymns, devout, devotion, faith, purity, chastity
Insanely poised on the wall
Moon-lizard chuckles at the calendar
On which a moth sits
The Pillars of humanity
felled by little boys tears
Irish clover
not so lucky for boys in white
defrocked
a new generation of holy men
the cycle of sodomy
sickens the soul
yet the masses
on their knees
sending child
like a lamb on the cross
blood droplets
religious tears glow
ah but the Irish clap
as Saint Patrick
condemns them to purgatory
wishing the evils ones
had been aborted
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY…
V
If ever I had a country
And if I were the Minister of Justice
I'd keep an open eye on covert fascist lechers
To arraign dodgers from witch sick woman's clutches
Who annul marriages the Holy See blesses
To mask her lewd tantrums in the Secret Services
That is, if ever I were the Minister of Justice
And even if I never had no country
VI
If ever I had a country
And if I were the Home Secretary
I'd make all secret files on all dignitaries
An open book on the art of rape incest or adultery
Pedophily sodomy perversity y compris
Not to mention lodge-keepers' skulduggery
That is, if ever I were the Home Secretary
And even if I never had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
A third world city with a revolutionary aspect
The poor crouched among the estates;
for the poor, the SUN crashes to the ground!
The hum of the city,
cacophony of people,
the deafening sound of
empty stomachs;
every day the media,
paints the sinister,
aspect of the poor;
urban decay:
the violence against society,
the violence against the family,
the violence of mass incarceration,
the violence of economic sodomy;
the daily cycle,
of societal breakdown;
for the poor, the SUN
crashes to the ground!
The habitually unemployed,
the ex-con,
the moral degradation of
the sexual outcast, and
the addled mind;
homeless squatter,
a fight,
a knife,
a gun,
an overdose;
the daily death of
the designated outcast;
for the poor, the SUN
crashes to the ground!
The revolution failed,
suicide by tribulation!
My appreciation is fluctuating,
Apprehension colours my face,
Crimson, with drops of dew
The morning greets me, once again.
Outside the window of my mind,
I see you, staring back at me
Just a lonesome tree,
Rooted with limbs, but no face to see.
I am me, you see
My thoughts are pure sodomy,
Designed to torment my insides
I can feel my gut rising.
I am me, you see
Is it not convincing?
There is nothing I cannot be,
My open flesh decorates a hole, inside of me.
If you look closer, you can just see
The beast peering out, prying at me
That is me, you see
This is my reality.
adoration
immaculate
conception di-
vine occupation
palaces electi-
ons sodomy
veneration
poor mas
Apostrophe
A derogate demons asperity
Calumniate my integrity
Malicious deceit
Holding no truth
Held on to nothing!
My inglorious ignominy
Your repulsion Satiate!
Nauseated glut unsensual sodomy
Surfeit and salt in nasty infected cut
Given dichotomy
Or burdened with great weight
Tarnished, libel. Stuck in a rut.
Nothing left
Appellation stained – Tainted mendaciously
Verbal hate – Eat the flesh
Minstrel blood mixed with sacred semen
There’s nothing left – except for fire and this acrid demon
Sodomy, clergy
Angels with dirty faces
Abhorred to the core
.
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