All stirred up by the words that come out on these pages.
These thoughts are best left to staunch women
Who sit happily under a repressive veil of undetermined class.
Why, no one is ever angry!
We sit here wanting to hold hands and LOVE one another.
Then we shut the door
We lay back and let all those slurs roll off our tongues.
We think all those thoughts we dare not speak.
Then we condemn ourselves
and creep back into our repression.
With all our gaucherie tucked back into place we stroll on.
Keeping these things in is a bit like constipation.
You take in so much supposed cerebral sustenance
Gulping it down from which ever way it pours out.
Did you think it would not turn into cerebral feculence?
Keep carrying that in
I hear backed up waste in the colon poisons the body.
What then of backed up waste in the soul?
Better to disgorge it from the recesses of my mind
I like the way people look when they blush.
Not because they are offended
But because they feign their incorruption so well.
I was never good at hiding things
I was always much better at procuring new bits of
Anathema to parade around in.
There are times I long for a way to release all those
Who remain cinched within their rectitude.
A lot less poison in our metropolis and feces belongs down the drain anyway right.
There are times I long for a way to release all those Who remain cinched within their rectitude. ~ excellently written the poem; nice to read the poetic diction and thought; congrats for being displays the poem as POD
Wonderful poem. Small wonder, this gem of a poem is selected "POEM OF THE DAT- MEMBER" today. Congratulations, dear poet. All the best.
there is so much reality in this which kept unopened, coming to life with your words...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very well written poem that doesn't beat around the bush. Belated Congrats, raechael for receiving the honour of POD. receiving