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around age 7 or 8 Odysseus adopts role of doctor to girls of his generation fascinated even driven by their differences from him especially  advanced development of ***** hair he examines their genitals once he misdiagnoses Junie Porter gets soap in her urethra Junie cries then forgives Odysseus apologizes she continues returning as patient also brings her curious sister and neighborhood friend who wants to be examined as well on another occasion Mimi Greer and her mom Ida stop by house for visit Mom and Ida are close friends Odysseus and Mimi are same age he has crush on her they go off play in kid’s bedroom after Greers have gone Mom receives phone call from Mimi’s mom Ida complains alarmed because she found toy soldiers in her daughter’s ******* Mom shrugs thinks it's funny

Aunt Rita and cousin Patsy who is two years older than Odysseus come to house for visit Aunt Rita gossips with Mom in bedroom Penelope and Patsy call Odysseus into kid’s bedroom Patsy is very pretty delicate features light tan skin thick brown hair she pulls down her ******* shows newly grown ***** mound she offers “you can pet me there if you want see how mature i am” Penelope briefly acknowledges Patsy’s sparse growth Odysseus begins to pet scrutinize both girls see his fixation they begin to giggle and go wild attack Odysseus with their hands tickling his sides crotch unbuttoning his jeans it is utterly innocent play but Odysseus feels something astonishing thinking he is about to *** or release he cries out at them to stop hearing commotion Mom calls out “what’s going on in there? you kids settle down get in here right now!”  girls run off laughing Odysseus feels incredible tingling sensation between his legs looks down sees he has made mess clear sticky not *** does not understand what happened wipes himself clean later asks Patsy when he can pet her again she answers “when you grow some hair of your own down there” he says “promise?” she says “yeah i guess i promise” Odysseus never forgets Patsy’s vow he waits for ***** hair to grow several years pass Odysseus often sleeps over at his cousin’s house in suburbs Patsy has grown into flowering beauty petite cheerleader physique Odysseus is in awkward stage bones jutting pimples on his face back braces on his teeth he approaches Patsy in her bedroom “i finally grew some strands down there remember your promise? can i pet you again?” Patsy scoffs “no way! i completely forgot that childish pact you don’t know anything” Odysseus replies “yes i do!” Patsy’s hands grip her waist “you don’t even know what the word **** means do you?” Odysseus answers “yeah sure i do uh maybe what does **** mean? tell me please” Patsy shrugs nods “you’re so childish now run along Odys you are such a little dip-****” he begs “Patsy please tell me what does **** mean” she points her forefinger to the door and yells “get out of here you little creep!” he feels trampled after imagining desiring for years early next morning still dark he tiptoes from cousin Chris’s bedroom sneaks into Patsy’s bed pets her furry mound while she seems to sleep later Aunt Rita calls Odysseus into her bedroom closes door sternly addresses him “Patsy told to me what you did how dare you? you should be ashamed of yourself i’m worried about you Odys i’m not going to tell your Mom and Dad because i know your father will blow his top and i won’t say anything to Uncle Burt but if i ever hear of anything like this again you will be severely punished! understand?” his chin drops down to his chest “yes Aunt Rita i promise never to touch Patsy again i’m sorry please forgive me”

Odysseus runs into Lynnie Sultan on back stairs at Harper he thinks she is very good-looking wants to play doctor Lynnie is fair-haired taller a grade higher than Odysseus pushes himself on her she growls “you little ****” yet reluctantly gives in he reaches inside her ******* pets her ***** hairs gently caresses soft mound smells feels wetness pulls out two hairs Lynnie cries out “ouch! why did you do that?” Odysseus answers “keepsake” suddenly math teacher Mr. McClennan appears catching them in act Lynnie is dismissed school principal calls Mom demanding conference Odysseus is detained in principal’s office waiting room Mom arrives apologetic to principal “what mischief did Odys do this time?” principal insists they speak behind closed doors when she walks out of office she flashes fuming glare at Odysseus driving home she questions “how dare you do this to me? what were you thinking? answer me! what’s the matter with you?” she guns gas pedal silently he considers how provoked Dad will get stomach claws once they arrive inside house Mom slaps his face yells "you’re sick weak selfish ******* up in your head! you need psychiatric treatment!" tears run from her eyes down her cheeks Odysseus hates himself for making Mom be so upset with him he feels guilt desperation nothing in this world is more upsetting than watching Mom cry because of his actions
camps May 2021
going outside nowadays is just a game of
who can hold their breath the longest and of
looking for reasons to pass the time in your
own backyard but the gardens i see are only for
the literary muses haunting writers into submission
and for digging up holes with plastic shovels and
for wishing that i could pick up the daisies
and place them in your hair

i was in the middle of drawing a circle when
my arm quivered and now the line shoots
way past the paper and it's currently
undulating over my desk and zooming past
a caterpillar that's contemplating whether the
process of becoming beautiful would actually
make him beautiful when he already knows
that he is beautiful

i hope the god i pray to forgives me for
making all the lines i write be about you
this poem makes me picture a certain someone
title inspired by a certain somewhere

from my new book anywhere but here
Yes, I'm that type of person.

I'm the type of person that gives up when it's hard.
I'm the type of person that can't stand to be alone.
I'm the type of person that's naturally depressed.
I'm the type of person that can't stand company.
I'm the type of person that's completely unmotivated.
I'm the type of person that forgets myself.
I'm the type of person that's emotionally weak.
I'm the type of person that changes by the hour.
I'm the type of person that has limited will power.
I'm the type of person that always sees what's wrong.
I'm the type of person that can't speak.
I'm the type of person that's often ignored.
I'm the type of person that doesn't pay attention.
I'm the type of person that rarely finishes.
I'm the type of person that allows chaos to happen.
I'm the type of person that can't always love.
I'm the type of person that has so much selfishness.
I'm the type of person that's stuck inside myself.
I'm the type of person that can't always see.
I'm the type of person that dwells in the dark.
I'm the type of person that becomes insensitive.
I'm the type of person that feels everything to the extreme.
I'm the type of person that dies at dusk every day.
I'm the type of person that tires much too quickly.
I'm the type of person that just doesn't care enough.
I'm the type of person that won't let you in.
I'm the type of person that has a low self-esteem.
I'm the type of person that raises my confidence by faking it.
I'm the type of person that's often getting lost.
I'm the type of person that's different.

Yes, I'm that type of person.

I'm the type of person that knows who I am.
I'm the type of person that gets back up to try again.
I'm the type of person that isn't afraid to ask.
I'm the type of person that offers help, even when you don't need it.
I'm the type of person that remembers what it felt like.
I'm the type of person that sees a person's soul.
I'm the type of person that usually thinks things through.
I'm the type of person that doesn't regret mistakes.
I'm the type of person that strives to be better.
I'm the type of person that has so much to give.
I'm the type of person that's concerned when you are not.
I'm the type of person that tries to be happy.
I'm the type of person that accepts the ones around me.
I'm the type of person that tries to understand.
I'm the type of person that still tries to work hard.
I'm the type of person that enjoys every silence.
I'm the type of person that dwells in notes of music.
I'm the type of person that won't stop loving.
I'm the type of person that forgives in an instant.
I'm the type of person that knows how to relax.
I'm the type of person that works towards perfection.
I'm the type of person that sees the good in people.
I'm the type of person that accepts my own differences.
I'm the type of person that is firm in my beliefs.
I'm the type of person that is open to change.
I'm the type of person that accepts my sexuality.
I'm the type of person that tries to be pretty.
I'm the type of person that can possess so much confidence.
I'm the type of person that is one with mind and heart.
I'm the type of person that creates peace around me.
I'm the type of person that knew you before you did.
I'm the type of person that you won't forget.

Yes, I'm that type of person.

But most importantly, I am myself.
I will meet you when you are yourself.
And I won't forget you.
So, please, don't forget me.

Yes, I'm that type of person.
God always comes first
A man will never exist without Him
He made man in His own image
He creates us
Breathe in life in us
Guides us from infant to adult
Protect us and lead us
Forgives us
Watch over us everyday and night
Even as our body and soul goes to sleep
He bless us with many abundant things in life HE Bless with wife,kids, family and money to take care of them
He is not a man...He is the mighty supernatural being
He does not discriminate
If money could buy life many rich people will live forever
He does His things with equity and fairness
As a gives both poor and rich, tall or fat same life.                                                            ­        
Above all He gives to a man a Good wife

A good wife  is to a man God's blessings and a miracle
A good wife is made out of a man's rib
To become a helper
A companion
A good listener
Created to restore happiness to man
Man always need her....
To build a home...a happy home
To build a future...a bright future
She will give up many things just to be with HIM
She is always committed to her husband
Always by his side to encourage Him and support him
She is always by His side both in good and in bad times
She is the number one fan of her husband
Always ready to fly her husband's flag all over the world
Even when He isn't functioning to His best...she always knows the right time to suggest
A good wife brings the best out of Her husband. With love and understanding
And when he looses his way..she is always there to guide Him
There was a saying that ...................

A beautiful wife  pleases the eye,but a good wife pleases the heart, the first is a jewel while the second is a treasure

All a man could have to be happy and have a peaceful and happy Home is God and a good wife
John Feb 2018
My heart is full of love,
It’s soft like a rose pedal
Yet my head is filled with hate,
Like a bucket of shrouds of metal.
My heart is warm,
It has learned to let things go.
But my head is cold,
Like a winters first snow.
It never forgets anything,
All the damage that has been done.
The harsh words of  a loved one,
That still pierce it like a gun.
My heart forgives,
It only wants to love.
It’s filled with it,
From the man above.
My brain keeps yearning,
To reach a similar level.
Yet it keeps punishing me,
Like it is straight from the devil.
My heart only seeks peace,
To be filled with joy.
My brain is always at war,
Like the battle of Troy.
My heart forgives others,
It fills my day with glee.
My brain is a constant reminder
It loathes me and betrays me.
My heart will never give up.
I hope it will lead the way.
Maybe my brain will ease up.
I so yearn for that day.
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2019
The gravity of freedom,
  the weight of space and time

Above the calculated noise,
  the wisdom of the Mime

Truth reveals a vacuum,
   where silence waits to live

As words describe what minds can’t see
  —and imagery forgives

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)
Forgive me father for I have sinned
The bruises he left are more than skin deep
He bruised my lips
He bruised my breast
He ****** the blood to the surface
Of my neck
But he bruised my soul
I reek with sin
Father will you heal me then?
5 hail Mary's and God forgives
I won't forgive myself
I won't forget our sin
Joe Cole Jul 2015
Forgiveness is the perfume from a flower
As you crush her underfoot
She knows you didn't mean it
Because she knows you never looked

A few hours ago she stood there
Her sweet perfume filled the air
In gay abandon she'd made her entrance
To reveal her presence there

Now she's battered bent and torn
But her memory still remains
As bright colours start to fade
Her perfume still fills the sunlit glade

Although she's long dead now and gone
She has also stayed alive
Because the seeds she hid inside
Are now scattered far and wide

Next spring she'll re appear
To delight the woodland bees
To stand in her full glory
For all the world to see
This is pretty much a complete  re write of something I posted a long long time ago
Laura Robin Dec 2012
Fred occupies his chair, innocently enough.
Occupying his time by
Solving the crossword puzzle, racking his brain
for the answers.
So all of the letters fit together.
So every space is filled. The beauty of solved Enigmas.
Ten across. Opposite of faithfulness.
The fire consumes the logs. Contained Chaos.
The room is illuminated in frantic light
Emanating from the fireplace.
Flames prevented from yielding to their Natural


Yearning to Disseminate to whatever matter
Will accept them. Fred sits on his chair,
Innocently enough,
But if you look in those
Eyes of his, you will witness the Beauty of
Pain, la Douleur exquise d'amour.
Loving Someone he will, invariably, love and forgive.

A woman

Whose love has changed patterns. Changed
Directions. Altered. There is a string
That hitches his heart to that of his infidel.
His wife. He feels foreign blood impairing
Them. He knows her. Without her telling
Him anything, he knows the Lies in those
Eyes of her. Confirming his knowledge.
Ten across. Infidelity. Means unfaithful.


She walked in moments ago, sat on the
Usual chair in front of him. Fred’s
Heart aches now with the immensity of the
Heartache within his wife.
He feels her heart has been broken
By the same man who usurped her from
Him every Thursday. She would return

[not quite yet]

Home on those days, Disjointed, Distracted. He
Knew this was what Falling in
Love looked like. But today, his wife's
Heart feels different. Her Lover is
Absent from their blood. Fred no
Longer is
Obligated to pump the blood of his
Wife’s flame throughout his own body.


and yet, he feels sorry for her.
feels her suffering.
feels her pain more than his own.


He watches her face, the Sorrow in
Her eyes drinks the flames of the
Fire. Fred can tell she wishes she were


In the flames. Better yet, the
Blaze itself, free from her despondency,
The places her mind must be traveling to.
Fred is fully aware that she is contemplating
Unloading her triste to him. Not for
His own Benefit, to be Honest with him.
Only to assuage her Guilt, to
empty her conscience of
Bad Blood.


She is a sinner. She will sin
Again. No doubt about that. But.
His Infidel.
He cannot stand to see her...
His love...his life...


If someone is spread out before you
Seeking to surrender to Death,
You do not Simply let them die.
Especially if they share half your blood.
Especially if your Happiness is
Contingent upon their survival.


Fred’s wife has a ghostly look on her
Face and he cannot help but save her from
Her caustic thoughts, from the
Consuming pain in her very
Core.


and so he guides
her back to him.
just her wide eyes.
he knows all.

And He forgives her.
Sara Buzz Sep 2018
457
457
But I don't look like a tiger
they call me fierce
but I feel like a liar.

Only I can see
the damage done to me
457
and it didn't have to be.

457
But nobody knows
everything's faded so it doesn't even show.

457
Can you see the discoloration?
in summer heat, jacket halfway off,
notice my hesitation?
I've been conditioned,
"scars are ugly"
457
but you can't even see them.

457
That's where I draw the line
not again
no more pain
"I promise I'm fine".

All this hiding has been in vain.
it's been such a long long time,
how much happiness did I feign?
Just to get through?
Just to survive.
Doing what I can just for
one more, only one more day.
I didn't believe but I looked up at God and begged for another way.

He told me to be brave
He told me He'd make a way
He promised He'd shed 1,000 tears of forgiveness for 1 single mistake.

But I didn't believe Him,
I didn't do my part
so 457 lines I've made.
Crossing the line away from real life and stepping into the darkness within and hoped I'd fade.

457
Not as bad as it could've been,
but forever it seemed, it took that long, 5 years to come out.

5 years to give up and look for another rout.
But it's a battle I still fight.
I remember myself and Gods promises of life,
I have to read it all back to myself every single night.

Do I carve away at skin or erase all of my sin?
I can try to look for Gods face but I know that I'm only human.

457 cuts on my body
but the words you gave somehow felt worse.

I messed up.
32 more, an unforgiving night, devastated and once again alone.
But God understands and knows
He sees my mistakes and woes
457 cuts on my body.
but 457,000 healings on my soul.

I'll look forward to the day
where the razors wont get in my way
I'll live life, Gods promises fulfilled
I'll try to do my part,
praise His name, look ahead
no longer making grotesque red art.
I'll let it fade, let the memories decay
I won't have to lie about being ok.

457
457
5 years of my flesh punished for experiencing sadness and existing.

Sure those who may know me may call me a tiger,
mocking memories of the old broken skin.
They could call me fierce, or weak, or strange, or a cutter, like I'd been.
But if one thing remains then I know that it doesn't matter.
Only God can forgive my sins.

You can hate me,
but if you haven't been there don't blame me.
I don't have time to listen to lies.
You have a problem with my past?
Speak ill of how I had to cope to last?
God forgives you too, yeah, but I know you didn't ask.

Yeah, I'm a tiger, a lioness, bird whatever,
freedom under God will allow me to soar.
I'll reach new heights that they never expected, and they'll never forget the roar I've perfected.

457
All that my agonies were,
but I won't let it continue to happen anymore.
And one day I wont even remember that number...
I won't even realise what it was for.
noura Aug 2021
It is the mundanity of the act,
of envisioning your hand gently wrapped around the copper kettle.
Obstinately gripping the pen, while you wring a sheet of paper dry for the right words.
You, cupping my face as if you were holding something precious.
As if I might slip through your fingers.
It is this devastating simplicity that obliterates every shard of my being.
A brick wall, left at the mercy of a gleaming sledgehammer
that is determined to turn everything to dust.

I see your hands everywhere.
In the haze of steam and shower curtains,
the lines dragged in velvet throw pillows,
the cloudy smudges left on a glass of water.
They run faint paths through my hair, their touch ghosts against my eyelid.
If I stare long enough,
your palm is right there, pressing into mine.
Silver cuts through the air and delivers a redundant blow.
The dust scatters once more.

You did not leave a hole
the way everyone said you were bound to.
Empty space cannot exist without everything that surrounds it, yields to it, forgives it,
validates its gaping hollowness.
Empty space is a needle and thread on the dresser, a sellotape dispenser on the desk, a container of soup left on the doorstep with a get-well-soon scribbled on the lid.
Empty space is where you can see remnants of what once was whole.
The faith and conviction that bit by bit, you will put your fragmented pieces back together again.

The nothing you left was so thick and suffocating
that it permeated every room,
filled my lungs to bursting capacity and left me gasping for more.
Its sickly, bitter fragrance danced relentlessly in my nostrils,
as though my suffering was the sweetest symphony ever heard.
It waltzed until I could feel it rising in my throat and leaking from my eyes,
twirled until my head spun.
The nothing you left insisted on making its presence known my every waking moment
and then gleefully romped its way into my nightmares.

It was so quiet, though.
A resigned quiet, like that of the ****** swinging in the gallows,
when everybody holds their breath to watch the pendulum sway.
The crossbeam glistens with last night’s rain and
they trudge back home, muttering to themselves as the dust settles beneath their feet.
I sink into sheets creased by your fingers and watch it sway.
kathy manfull Mar 2013
Life is hard, life is what you can do with it. Life is learning, stopping and trying again. Life is loving, letting go, and hurting, pain so deep  you want to die. Life is not what you can not do but what you can. Life is not giving up. Life is i. forgiving yourself and others. Life is seeing the good not the bad. Life is seeing the beauty all around. Life is the very quite and the dark. Life is to give, love, time, gifts, prayers, and yourself. Life is doing the best you can do, and knowing when to say enough. Life is letting go and trusting that GOD will be
there when I can . Life is trust...in GOD,.self and others.
Life is believing.in tomorrow. Life is loving and
giving love even when you don't want to. Life IS hurting those you love, so they can grow and learn

knowing you are loved. Life is knowing GOD        
forgives,.GOD forgives no matter what as long as long as I can forgive myself. Life is Hard  but life is special, what.else
MetaVerse Mar 2023
Physician, jab thy sinfu' sel',
An' thereby sairly fare thee well,
Since jabs make well (I heard thee tell)
                  When health is sparse.
Go to the de'il an' go to hell,
                  Ye lyin' ****!

Ye de'ilish tadger, kin of Cain,
The Hippocratic Oath ye've ta'en
(Ye villainous hypocrite!) in vain
                  An' spoilt yer name,
An' a' for wealth and warly gain;
                  An' that's a shame.

The ******' lord o' ******' flies
Has twice ten billion zillion eyes,
An' craves to eat the flesh that dies,
                  An' sees ye clearly;
But God, who sees yer sprite (surprise!),
                  Still loves ye dearly!

Repent an' pray, ye rocket man,
For Christ forgives (it's in His plan)
An' could forgive yer whole ****'d clan
                  If ye'd but ask.
Perhaps ye can, perhaps ye can
                  't perform the task!
Lilly Tereza Nov 2012
A lonely stool
A lightless room
And a girl who sits
And waits.

The sticky floor,
Her ****** body.
As tears drip down
Her face.

When out of the darkness
Comes a boy
With fluffy dark
Black hair

The boy that she loves
Yet she won’t smile
She can only sit
And stare.

He smiles and kisses
The top of her head
It only makes her
Cry harder.

And as he leans back
And punches her face
She swears the room
Gets darker.

He kicks and she screams
He pulls out her hair
He slashes at her with
A knife.

And when he says sorry
'He hopes she forgives him'
She wishes he'd just take
Her life.

He says not to worry
In time she'll forget
But she knows that he'll be
There tomorrow.

The boy that she love
Is now her worse nightmare?
And fills her life
With sorrow.
'This envelope you say has something in it
Which once belonged to your dead son--or something
He knew, was fond of?  Something he remembers?--
The soul flies far, and we can only call it
By things like these . . . a photograph, a letter,
Ribbon, or charm, or watch . . . '

. . .  Wind flows softly, the long slow even wind,
Over the low roofs white with snow;
Wind blows, bearing cold clouds over the ocean,
One by one they melt and flow,--

Streaming one by one over trees and towers,
Coiling and gleaming in shafts of sun;
Wind flows, bearing clouds; the hurrying shadows
Flow under them one by one . . .

' . . . A spirit darkens before me . . . it is the spirit
Which in the flesh you called your son . . . A spirit
Young and strong and beautiful . . .

He says that he is happy, is much honored;
Forgives and is forgiven . . . rain and wind
Do not perplex him . . . storm and dust forgotten . .
The glittering wheels in wheels of time are broken
And laid aside . . . '

'Ask him why he did the thing he did!'

'He is unhappy.  This thing, he says, transcends you:
Dust cannot hold what shines beyond the dust . . .
What seems calamity is less than a sigh;
What seems disgrace is nothing.'

'Ask him if the one he hurt is there,
And if she loves him still!'

'He tells you she is there, and loves him still,--
Not as she did, but as all spirits love . . .
A cloud of spirits has gathered about him.
They praise him and call him, they do him honor;
He is more beautiful, he shines upon them.'

. . .  Wind flows softly, the long deep tremulous wind,
Over the low roofs white with snow . . .
Wind flows, bearing dreams; they gather and vanish,
One by one they sing and flow;

Over the outstretched lands of days remembered,
Over remembered tower and wall,
One by one they gather and talk in the darkness,
Rise and glimmer and fall . . .

'Ask him why he did the thing he did!
He knows I will understand!'

                             'It is too late:
He will not hear me: I have lost my power.'

'Three times I've asked him!  He will never tell me.
God have mercy upon him.  I will ask no more.'
Dreams of Sepia Jul 2015
We meet by the lockers
at break
I'm still amazed
that this school
has Cheerleaders
that basketball
not rounders & netball
is the sport played
that we study
the Cold War
' Of Mice & Men'
& the War in Vietnam
that we have 'Hitzenfrei' days
that our German teacher
always forgives our mistakes
that boys & girls
hang out together
that we put on musicals
I've never heard of
That we celebrate the fall of the Wall
that we take school trips
to Concentration Camps
that there's no uniform
that the teachers
rarely explain anything
that the word ' rubber'
doesn't mean ' eraser'
here but something else
that there are stereotypes
like 'nerd' & ' prom queen'
that we welcome grafitti
that we believe in Love
above any kind of Study
that we have the freedom
to pick & choose our failiures
without being sent
to the Principal's office
that we read Kerouac
Carl Sandburg & Ginsberg
that nearly everyone
has lived in at least
two or three
different countries
that we rarely fight
that my crush
plays trumpet
in a ska band
that we go
to the nearby Lakes
on weekends
& the English language cinema
on Tuesdays
that we celebrate Halloween
bit by bit I nearly forget
my All Girls school days
in soggy Britain
where I had no friends
where we sang hymns
every single morning
where we didn't practice
the Love we preached
where our future
was crumbling old Oxbridge
where we had a coat of arms
where we had houses
named after the merchant ships
of our Founder  from the 1600ds
where we didn't dream
of becoming Presidents
or Astronauts but Academics
forever lost in musty books
the flower of our youth, wasted


Hitzenfrei days were days in summer when we were let off school because it was too hot.
Wall - Berlin Wall
donovan ellis Jan 2013
Mirror mirror on the wall, my hopes are down but my dreams are tall, what do you see in me when i face the wall. Mirror mirror please tell me all, i need you more than ever before is my heart full or can it handle some more. Mirror mirror what do you see, a boy asking for help that's to strong to bleed, or a boy that's helpless who stands to plied. Mirror mirror cant you see, my reflection isn't glowing is there something wrong with me, peer red seems to cover i am not a devils child. Mirror mirror please come rescue me, God is on my side i been to stupid to see, mistakes after mistakes but still he forgives me. Mirror mirror can the boy be me, if so i give it all to see a new day for me, falling to my knees i start to plied. Mirror mirror red little droppings replace my tears, the devil is crying because i am no longer he's, the pain that i feel in my hands and feet is the pain that he felt when he died for me. Mirror mirror now what do you see, mirror mirror please talk to me, My mirror has broken and fell to my feet, now that i see a glowing man in front of me.
Boaz Priestly Apr 2015
RIP -A Poem For Leelah Alcorn
Do not tell me
that it gets better
when another one of my
people another one of
my sisters
and surely thousands of brothers
but this sister
who I didn’t even get the
chance to meet
this sister
whose blog I only knew about
thanks to her suicide note
this sister
whose parents can’t even respect
her pronouns after she is dead
they did not lose a son
they drove a daughter
their daughter
to end her life
and even after her body
is not yet cold in the ground
still call her son
your darling son died years ago
and now your daughter is dead too
and she isn’t coming back
this isn’t an accident
I know what suicide looks like
I have almost been a victim many times

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister is dead
and she is being misgendered
in the news articles and media

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when she
Leelah Alcorn
that is her name
was pushed to suicide by an
uncaring un-understanding world

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister is dead
and her parents still have the nerve
to beg for sympathy and call
her a boy
even after death

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when we are still killing ourselves
only to be written off as mere statistics
and gender-identity
sexuality in and of itself
still isn’t taught in schools

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister is dead
and I cannot attend her funeral
all I can do is write ****** poetry
and hope that she forgives me for not
being able to speak around the lump
in my throat

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when countless people that were
born in the wrong body
that do not fit the norms
will be misgendered at their funerals

Do not tell me
that it gets better
because the harsh reality is
that thousands of us will
live life in fear
drowning in a hopelessness
and sadness that nobody else knows
because not all of us have accepting
families and friends
and our suicides will be written off
as mere accidents
but nobody steps in front of
a semi on accident

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when my sister died knowing
thinking knowing thinking knowing
that her parents didn’t love her
they loved their son
they will mourn their son
when it is their daughter that died
and she will never know a true mothers and fathers love

Do not tell me
that it gets better
when the harsh truth is that
if I do not change my name legally
I too will be
misgendered at my funeral

Do not tell me
that it will get better
when my sister is dead
unless you want to feel the wrath
of my transgender rage
over the injustice that is written across the scars on our wrists and signed on the dotted lines of our suicide notes

Do not tell me
that it will get better
because my sister died not
knowing that
PNasarudheen Aug 2013
A Thread of Equanimity.
[Note:ref. holy Qur’an(1:4)m holy Bible,John,(4:23-24) and Mundakopanizhad(1:6)]                                  

Ramzan reminds us of holy Qur’an
That tells us  to read ; observe, think.
Serve, the needy with sakat , sadaka
Pray only Him ; for He  only forgives.
“Iyaka  na abudu wa  iyaka nasthaieen”
[Only Thou we worship; rely Thou ]-
“Yesha Sarveswara Yesha Sarvagna
Yesho  antharyamyesha yooni : sarvasya
Prabhavapyau hi  bhoothanam”
[Protector of all, the All-knowing is He
He is The Force ,  the Seat is He ;
Form Him Emerge all; to  Him all go  back]
“Twamekam Sarenyam, twamekam varenyam
Twamekamekam jagat karanam”
“Only ,Thou art reliable, noble Thou art
Thou art the only Cause of creations.]
The righteous worship Him in Spirit and-
In Truth ; “God is spirit” ; so says,  Jesus.
To every race has sent God Prophets
They only taught to follow the Right Path.
Call it Dharma or Deen you may; call it,
Follow the same path ,:refrain from vices.
Love is the thread of  equanimity,
Spun up- by  mystic conscience super.
Sarah Writes Nov 2013
The first time you told me you loved me, I was drunk,
And I cried.
And then I was having a panic attack,
And my god ****** cigarette wasn't helping
And the air in my lungs was revolting.
The first time you told me that you loved me,
I couldn't say it back.
Not the second, the third, or the fourth.
I didn't say it the night that I told you you bring out the best in me,
Or the day after that, when I told you your dimples
Feel like the parenthesis around my own laugh.
I didn't tell you, even when you pointed up toward the full moon, just like the night we had met,
Or in the morning after that, when I woke up from nightmares about being thrown in jail
And found myself so grateful to have you next to me that when I rolled over to wrap myself around your still sleeping body, I almost whispered the words in your ear, just to give you a sweeter dream than mine.
The first time I thought it was when you first got out your guitar.
In that warmup chord, I saw what my body already knew your fingers could do.
And for some reason, it made me think about how you always put away your leftovers, how you ask me, little darlin, where was I going with that
Every **** time you tell a story, call me your steel trap.
While you played my favorite song without knowing, I thought about
How long we stood in the aisle weighing the pros and cons
Of toothbrushes
And how easily we laugh.
But still I can't say it, not yet, no matter how good you look in the yard, chopping wood.
We need more words for love because
I think maybe we see it differently.
If we were on the same page, you would never put forth something so easily
That could take us so far
And drop us so hard.
Because the love that I want between you and I
Is the kind that takes time
The kind that knows how to see in the dark, that forgives all of the embarrassing things.
Like maybe someday I'll show you my poetry.
I see the kind of love that has learned to navigate the world through four eyes
Like a spiderweb touching
The bark on our adjacent trees.
It requires you to forgive yourself the knowledge of me.
And that is not easy.
You joke, tell me you l-word me
Tell me that someday I'll learn how to love, just a joke, but
I don't know if you know it's not nice.
I do know love,
I know love like the backs of my teeth,
Like the way it ties strings across time and death and seas.
I know love like the way I have so many people in my life who give it to me for free
And I am so god ****** lucky that you feel it for me.
I know love in how much I want you
To be happy.
And yes, I know how to love between lovers,
But most of what I know is about how it goes away.
I remember how to fall out of love, so well,
How to lose myself in the swell
Of a dying tide.
I know
That for you I will dive back into that ocean
And that when I say those words, I will mean them, I will believe them.
And I know that I love myself far too much
To do anything but trust my own tongue because
Sometimes when you smile I feel like I've waited for you my whole life
So, on this, I can be patient.
Alyssa Underwood Apr 2022
“Why seek the Living One among the dead?“
asked angels to a few who‘d watched the Lord
be crucified—His blood and life outpoured,
“He is not here! He‘s risen as He said!“
In days before these women wept in grief
as Jesus‘ lifeless body, wrapped in shroud,
lay buried, guarded, sealed from Paschal crowd,
but by God‘s plan entombment would be brief!
His slaying served full payment for the debt
incurred against Himself by mankind‘s sin.
His raising proved His sacrifice the win
to satisfy God‘s wrath, my debts forget!
Because Christ Jesus died but ever lives,
the sin of all who trust Him God forgives!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
vircapio gale Dec 2012
common chilling sights--
i see humanity
ungranted

ice nucleators--
mutual lives underground
buffered dots of heat

Jupiter winds glow
revivals there and then --
red swirls of lust

twelve conquests past
all creatures skyclad
in that loose zodiac belt

unconditional
dark solstice
deepest love

festive thanks
at dread allayed--
more roasted birds
.
the same sun,
snowflake years
uniquely melt
.
still Fall-ripe,
matunda ya Kwanza
nourish unity
.
only a nick,
the green knight forgives
saint sir Gawain
.
winter thin
Shakyamuni trees
entangle star rays
.
Dōngzhì recurs--
tangyuan and dumpling soup
warm ears and hearts
.
Lucy brightens
Advent's tidal frost
sugar powder blind
.
strong eyelids--
holy corpses
smile again
.
endyear eyelids pull
open --                            
Summer's chain emails
.
i nightgaze here too--
Yalda Shab brightens birth night
vermillion sweet eve
.
gelt to gifts--
sacred lights remembrance
wonders burning yet
.
obstacles embraced
powdered elephant dance
ancient clouds of lore
.
of country dwellers
gifted greatest gifts--
pentacles outshine
.
hot planets glint
subtle light unseen and far --
night sky snow

transaeonic squint
textured sense illumes vast space
light trails interweave

evergreen bird womb
coos beyond my porch--
fireplace ignites

Februa nears--
thermals gather itch for
one last indulgence

Hubble vision melds
an interspecies lens--
"home" descends anew

integral trust--
grapes freeze by vintner's paths
of future sweetness

moss between toes
Spring ooze effluvia
giddy spine sky high
JadedSoul Aug 2014
I get home after a long day
and she can't wait!
She rushes out the house
right into my arms!

Excited just to see me
take my cares and sorrows of the day
and make them go away.
Seems as if me coming home
is the very best part of her day.

She forgives in a blink -
sits against me with her soft hair
her heart racing
at the thought of her first love
- her only love -
being by her side.

Sitting on my lap, she looks at me
Her blonde fringe hangs
between her beautiful brown eyes

How I love this dog!
If only humans can love
like this little dog!
Content and happy -
her love's home and she's complete
Inspired by my ever loving, faithful dog. Always happy to see me, just to be with me is the greatest thing to her. I love you my little puppy
Red Robregado Aug 2021
One full year with what feels like a lifetime full of twists and turns, tears and burns.
One full year and you’ve made your arms and chest home to me.
One full year of sacrificial love — undeserved.

My huckleberry friend, with whom would I rather share my sun-drenched and, at times, reckless youth? Always in all ways, with you.

My beautiful solace, who’s courageous enough to break through my darkest clouds? It’s you — through and through.

Who has been to me a bridge over troubled waters? None but you, no, none but you.  

And whose love accepts, gives, and forgives time and time again? No man, but you. My love, only you.

One full year of knowing and adoring you evermore each day.
A poem for Uziell; Celebrating Our First Anniversary
Jay M Wong Mar 2014
For such filthy eyes shall upon her own shall it be seen,
By the kingdom’s fairest maiden by the name of Josephine,
For such hideous face shall she dare to wear before thy Queen,
And what ragged curtains shall ‘tis creature possess ‘tis scene.

May none’st identify where thy body ceases and thy rags begin,
For shall such filth of blubber spills upon her ragged clothing pin,
Which fails to be seen for such graceful bliss of hiding it forgives,
Of beneath such deformity and disproportionate hideousness lives,

Shall upon the eyes of the beautiful maiden named Josephine,
Dances ‘tis maiden whose grace represents the purest bovine,
For a creature of such bulging filth and horrors shall dare to disgrace,
Our dearest Josephine, the epitome of beauty, at ‘tis very palace,

For such filth must be rid from the mightly kingdom gates,
So upon such disgust, thee bovine’st life shall we castigate,
Dismantling such hideous face upon ‘tis very maiden shall we,
Yielding minute filthy shards of hideous blades shall we free,
Thy treacherous throat of thee ragged bovinic maiden.
Who drifts upon the crimson carpet as her life hath we a’taken.

And so if one were to enter thee room, shall it inevitably be seen,
The shattered glass of her mirror and the beautiful body of Josephine...
A poem on the perspective of women towards themselves; the reflecting mirrors of bovinic figure, of beauty and reflection, the idea of mirrors influenced by a friend — S.F.
DC raw love Dec 2014
If I talk with the tongues of men and even of angels, but if I do not love people, then I am only like the sound of a big horn or a loud bell.

If I speak words from God, if I can understand all secrets, and know everything, if I can move mountains by believing, but if I do not love people, I am nothing, even though I can do all of these things.

If I give away all I have, and if I give my body to be burned, but if I do not love people, I get nothing out of it.

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous. Love is not proud and does not boast.

Love does not do things that are not nice. Love does not just think of itself.

Love does not get angry. Love holds no wrong feelings in the heart.

Love is not glad when people do wrong things. But it is always glad when they do right.

Love forgives everything. Love is always trusting, and always hoping, and never gives up.

Love never ends. The gift of speaking words from God will end. The gift of speaking in different tongues or languages will stop. The gift of knowing many things will end.

Now we know only a little, and we can speak only a little of God's words.
But when everything becomes perfect, that part will come to an end.

When I was a child, I talked like a child. I understood like a child. I thought like a child. But when I became a man, I stopped doing things like a child.

Now it is like looking in a looking-glass which does not make things clear.

We cannot see and understand things plainly. But when things become perfect, then we shall fully know and understand everything, just as God knows.

These three things will remain for ever. They are faith, hope, and love. And love is the greatest of them.
1 CORINTHIANS: 13
Viv O Feb 2013
This is Anna
Anna has a dolly
A raggedy little thing
Her name is Miss Molly

Anna loves Miss Molly
She had her since she was three
Miss Molly loves Anna
They are as close as can be

Sometimes Anna is happy
Which makes Miss Molly happy

Sometimes Anna is sad
Which makes Miss Molly sad

Sometimes Anna had to leave
Which makes Miss Molly angry

And when Miss Molly is angry
Anna is scared

But that's okay
Because Miss Molly always says she's sorry
And Anna forgives her
Because friends accept apology

One day, Anna had to go on a 'trip'
Miss Molly wanted to come
“No, sweetie, Miss Molly can't go
This is your first day of school,” said her mum

So Anna left
And Miss Molly grew angry
She grew so mad
Her smiley face turned ugly

When Anna came back home
And went to her dolly in her room
Miss Molly started shouting at her
Her face full of anger and gloom

“Why did you leave me?” she yelled,
“I thought we were best friends!”
“We are,” Anna cried back,
“But you have to wait until school ends.”

Miss Molly grew quiet
Her face blank on her raggedy head
A few minutes passed
And she finally said

“Stay with me, Anna,
Forever and ever.
We will never be apart
Whenever and wherever.”

Anna looked at Miss Molly
Into her dolly's button eyes
And finally said, “Okay.
No more saying goodbyes.”

In the closet on a little girl's room
In a box full of forgotten toys
Lay two little dollies
Smiling in the silent noise.

The End
This story was my attempt on writing a scary, short, poetic story that was not too extreme for younger children, but will still scare them. I was originally going to narrate this with illustrations for my Art class, but then realized that it was not suppose to have too many words :(. Ah well, enjoy and please review!
Samuel Butcher Dec 2013
Look:

If mankind is a forest and you then a tree
then I am the one who stands sentry
and watches for signals in a distant belfry
one of if by land and two if by sea
a position not revered watching danger near
and screaming curdled-canticles dear
that fire is sweeping and the kindling is fear
the smoke's in the distance – it doesn’t just appear
you frogs oblivious to the quick melting veneer
to afraid to strip it away, to look in the mirror
and see yourself for what you are; for what we're
becoming – something less than...

Stop:

And you think there's truth in this verbal climbing
but it's just that what I'm saying was designed to be rhyming
and is syncopated to give it an ear-pleasing timing
like a...a........a
***-***-***
heartbeat
a heartbeat pinging unbirthing mountains
on a static-shot blue monitor
in a faraway
hospital where all the rooms are
painted black and the
Doctors curse themselves.

Cursed like we are cursed,
to our death marched and the only
sound ringing is the bleating
of a New Orleans trumpet
in a funeral march – our coffin
into the dirt sank and left behind
these idolatrous sycophants who
have like pigs at a trough suckled
the very marrow of genius from our
bones, then spit back but a slim
shadow of our once impeccant brilliance.

Like the unborn galaxies of celestial mothers,
like the toxic lessons of a distempered
youth, like the sullen, momentary terror of a
child before sleep: let it be said that we
are forgotten.

Let it be said that it is as though we never were,
that the banshee curses we have screamed at the
horrors and the inequities we have witnessed
are for naught, are
disappeared, are into the ether ****** until
the great unknowable beyond has become
the altar of our yesterdays, forgiving the
domain of God and forgetting that of man:
show me a man of faith and I will show
you one of fear; man the animal, the scourge,
man the fiend who cannot forgive, merely
erase the memory and think not of the
transgressions done to him

Forget us and we will forget
what you have done to us;
but do not ask us to forgive the
pillage of our sacred rights, to forgive
the devolution of our ideas into the mire
of the ordinary, to forgive at all- No
man is not an animal who forgives; leave that
to God and **** him for it.


Forget we ever were; it is a greater kindness
than to remember the mutant bile we will become.


All of which is to say this:

Earlier I wandered outside and heard cries
behind the closed doors that guard our loyal lies
and this boy sitting near with a gold hooped ear
called it a ghost town
then took another drag and tears
slipped past his locked up frown.
I'll never know his name
Eleanor Sinclair Oct 2018
I hope my body forgives me
For what I’ve put it through
I hope one day I see
The truths I heard from you

I promise I will try
Not to starve myself as often
But there will be hiccups and lies
As I chew and chew to soften

The food will make me sick
Though I may not mean physical
But still they call me “thick”
Thin is paradisiacal

I’m sorry some days I can’t keep down my food
Or I can’t even look at the label on that junk
I know it would taste good
But it would just add to me another flabby chunk

The number doesn’t matter
It’s arbitrary really
I’m stuck like the mad hatter
And the mirror floats about freely

Yes I’m scared to death
But the death is so enticing
I push and pull each breath
But the sharp oxygen is slicing

Tired and alone
I wander aimlessly
With no place to call home
I can’t say I do so blamelessly

It’s my fault I’m so messed up
But I want that skin and bones
I rinse my mouth with a cup
After throwing up dark tones

I hope my body forgives me
For hurting it so greatly
It’s not who I want to be
But I’ve gotten much worse lately
Jay M Wong Jul 2014
Oh goody maidens and gentlemans here,
Thou engulfed in facades 'til all'st adieu,
Let'st all notion the curtains to draw'st near,
For those who upon false 'motions act true,
Shall tell'st a tale for which light'st shall share.
Among'st these halls, thee fairest maiden, lives,
Whose beauty gallants the darkly chambers,
And too thee state for loyalty gives,
'pon 'tis hammock lights fiery ambers,
'Til in deathly slumber shall life forgives.
Shall dearest queen*, thy body in deathly snow,
Wandering thee halls as'h a restless soul...
A poem influenced by a sign on a church saying "You do not have a soul, you are a soul and you have a body" - thus in death shall the queen shed her body and wander as what she truly is, a soul. A reference to a past poem by J.M.Wong entitled "Josephine, the Queen".
Traveler Mar 2019
Stacks of memories
In a recycle bin
Pulling 'em out
Putting 'em in

Remember whens
Where we like to go
Never forget 'ers
Imprinted on soul

Lost in piles of files in flesh
Moments we were not at our best
Dark nights come and slowly fade
Until grey matter triggers spark replay

Up front the nows
The essence of living
The thankfuls to be
The resentful misgivings

The never forgets
Forgives and regrets
All the wins, the losses
The deaths
  
Yet there's still plenty of room
For those good memories
We haven't made yet...
Traveler Tim

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HivQqTtiHVw
Kurt Carman Oct 2018
Did you ever have one of those days,
That causes more than a few eyebrows to raise?
Black clouds looming inside your head,
And fools rush in where angels fear to tread? (a.pope)

Then start by lifting up just one corner of your mouth
Point it towards the sky, DO NOT go south.
And with your index finger, push up the other flection,
Keep it right side up in the very same direction!

With this smile take a long deep and meaningful breath,
And Sing a song that warms your heart...as your mind forgives & forgets.
Stand tall young one, cause your living in the light,
This day has past but tomorrow you'll reignite!
You don't feel like smiling? Then what? Two things. First, force yourself to smile. If you are alone, force yourself to whistle or hum a tune or sing. Act as if you were already happy, and that will tend to make you happy. Here is the way the psychologist and philosopher William James put it:
"Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which is not.                           

- Dale Carnegie
Marco Avre Jan 2014
Life got overturned in your curls.
Curls with which I put together the fabric.
Fabric, with which we wiped shame off of our faces.
We didn't know how to choose.
We choked when we shouldn't even drink.

By mistake.
By mistake one bites its own heart,
one forgives a betrayal,
one cries instead of laughing,
one dies in its sleep,
but you can't deceive someone like this,
by mistake.

In the clouds of your coffee,
did the loneliness that you felt
when you woke up with him, ever peeped out?
Did you wish that I was him
when you hung wet sheets from the sky?
When you dreamt of the right man
but woke up in the wrong bed?

By mistake.
By mistake one bites its own heart,
one forgives a betrayal,
one cries instead of laughing,
one dies in its sleep,
but you can't deceive someone like this,
by mistake.

If I had ever known
that your winter would strain in my nest,
I would've forbidden you to climb so high,
I would've denied you the fruit of my tree.

Of the ghosts we raised,
Of the shadows we harvested,
of those pagan rituals,
having offered you my heart
was my only mistake,
I did it by mistake.
By mistake.
Put all man’s failures in a heap,
And then they would exceed the skies.
But God’s great mercy far exceeds
The sum of all man’s sinful pride.

For all the heart can think, or do,
Or dream in its deceptive mode—
He has a plan for me and you:
Forgiveness (a divine code).

It is a mystery divine
How God forgives our failures all
And beckons one with love sublime
Tho’ few dare answer His clear call.

Oh lovely deity Divine
I take thy mercy to be mine.
b Oct 2015
Dad
Watching your eyes shut and twitch on your final hours of life showed me that you really weren’t ready for a life of responsibility and maturity. Your skin was flushed white and translucent like snake skin, and your legs blown up like balloons, your veins popping like your eyes after you snorted ******* on your dashboard from your arms , bruised and black like your tarred lungs from the diabetes and poor circulation. You weren’t ready for this lifetime, your soul wasn’t ready to become a parent or a husband. You tried your best as a father, but your inner demons told you otherwise when you left your youngest and second youngest alone with your cancer ridden wife that night. The drugs pumping through your body as fast as the ambulance lights could go when your wife found you on the floor having your second heart attack. Every single day, your wife and your youngest daughter spent in the hospital making sure you were well taken care of. Your inner demons told you otherwise. Your demons told you to tell them to go **** themselves and to leave you alone on the third week. Your youngest continued to latch onto you for years after. On your death bed, your siblings and your youngest crowded around you. Your brother was red in the face with tears, like a little kid who wasn’t allowed to have candy before dinner. Your sister in law who followed the footsteps of your brother. And your mature younger sister, sitting there with your youngest daughter trying to get you to at least open your eyes and see who was there. You knew who was there, your soul wouldn’t allow you to. You strived to open your eyes and mouth to speak. The only words you muttered was, “I need to get the **** out of here.” Your siblings preached about how this could’ve been saved, your youngest said otherwise. She said, “there was nothing left to do,” she held your hand sobbing quietly, knowing you were going to pass away less than 24 hours later. She forgives you for not being the father you were supposed to be, because your soul wasn’t ready for this life. Your soul was meant to be free, short lived, and spontaneous. Your inner demons took over young, and led you to a long painful death. You know how they say, when you die your life passes before your eyes? Wrong. Everything you didn’t do when you were alive that you regret passes in front of you while your soul emerges from your body. You regretted having children and raising them to be codependent while your wife was the complete opposite. You regret dropping quarter of a million dollars into drugs. You regret beating your children and listening to your inner demons again, and again, and again. You regret beating your wife when she had cancer, and prior to cancer. You regret losing the house because you wanted to buy **** with the mortgage money your wife specifically told you to pay with. You died with these regrets at 11:30 AM on February 28th 2014. Your youngest forgave you, but has a constant thought of killing herself since you left this earth. She screams out, ‘why didn’t you take me with you?’ to the sky at least once a month. Your oldest daughter abandons her family to marry someone who she feeds lies to about her family. Your oldest son stays with someone as emotionally abusive as you. And your wife lives with regret, lives in a rental with her boyfriend and the youngest. 5 years in remission of breast cancer. She will always love you, but will never forgive you for what you did to her children and to her. You died with these regrets.
I wrote this back in May when my depression was hitting home. My father passed away last year and I'm still coping with it.
Time forgives and time forgets;
          But between cigarette smokes
          And spilled beers,
          **I remember you.
Àŧùl Sep 2016
You get back home weary from shocks,
You being impotent is not your tension,
But how two kids at home call you dad,
Basis of all your tensed thoughts is this,
Your wife still has two kids if not yours,
Your wife has the explanation to make,
May God curse the lying life of your wife.

You just get back home & draw your gun,
You load the fresh magazine in midnight,
Breathing long you put your feet silently,
But the door is ajar and she is fast asleep,
Your (or hers) children in the next room,
Your fingers tremble & you've flashback,
Many memories zoom through your mind.

You decide to use the pillow as a silencer,
You now calmly hold the pillow over her,
Breathing cautiously now you are unsure,
But her infidelity isn't what you expected,
Your heart tells you to introspect yourself,
Your mind changes after thinking about it,
Multiple times yourself have been cheating.

You pause & change your mind about her,
You have the gun now point at your own,
But now you see her stirring in her sleep,
Breaking from her sleep for water she is,
Your presence scares her to the hell now,
Your gun pointed at your heart she sees,
Mighty strength she gathers to ****** it.

You grunt and push her away from you,
You whisper, "Why did you cheat me?"
Before she replies to your weird charge,
Barked again yourself in a low whisper,
"Your children are not mine now I know,"
"Your husband is technically impotent!"

Maybe she understood everything now.

You remember that she is a policewoman,
You see her unload the gun and discard it,
"The children - both - are test tube babies,"
"The **** was mine and fertilized in vitro,"
"Your ***** was used artificially as well,"
"Your DNA from your own hair was used,"

Might have she followed the procedure.

It seems possible & you regret your actions,
But she just smiles & forgives you heartily,
"It's okay darling, I kept it secret from you,"
"It's really a cute face you've put up now,"

You now wish to sink down into the floor,
"You would forgive me for doubting you,"
Must be an angel to let you sink your head into her *****.
Part 2/2

A biotechnologist's scientific poem.

HP Poem #1157
©Atul Kaushal

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