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713

Fame of Myself, to justify,
All other Plaudit be
Superfluous—An Incense
Beyond Necessity—

Fame of Myself to lack—Although
My Name be else Supreme—
This were an Honor honorless—
A futile Diadem—
Timothy Roesch Jan 2014
Beware the fleeting expressions of Man!
Allah’who Akbar is easier to shout than
an explicit examination of rights and wrongs
Honor!  shouts the honorless;  Shout!  Sings the songs

A Fire of Men and Stones!
stoked by honor and broken bones
fleeting the expression upon the face
under the blood tears leave no trace.

Beware the sleeting excoriations of Men!
In the name of god is so easy to sing, then
the stonings and the burnings can begin.
Love! Shouts the loveless; hating the sinner, loving the sin

A Fire of Men and Stones!
Lovingly born by staring crones!
Fleeing the expression upon the face!
Gaining Pride!  Losing the Race.

“Please God help me,” the sinner begs.
Shaitan smiles and stirs the dregs.
The soul of Man spits down like stones
thrown without mercy at mercy overthrown.

A Fire of Men and Stones!
The flames a’crackle; the ground, she groans.
Fleeting, the expression, ‘Please save me!’
Shaitan names the mob; mommy.

Men and Stones afire!
Souls burn bright upon the funeral pyre!
But not as bright as truth overthrown
Virgins tremble!  ****** groan!

“Please God!  Are you there?”
Nothing answers, not even the air
that rises high in a silent sneer
from the pyre that draws all so near.

Pray not for men; they will not hear or atone
for they are the fire of Men and Stone.
Timothy Roesch Feb 2014
Beware the fleeting expressions of Man!
Allah’who Akbar is easier to shout than
an explicit examination of rights and wrongs

Honor!  shouts the honorless;  Shout!  Sings the songs

A Fire of Men and Stones!
stoked by honor and broken bones
fleeting the expression upon the face
under the blood, tears leave no trace.

Beware the sleeting excoriations of Men!
In the name of god is so easy to sing, then
the stonings and the burnings can begin.

Love! Shouts the loveless; hating the sinner, loving the sin

A Fire of Men and Stones!
Lovingly born by staring crones!
Fleeing the expression upon the face!
Gaining Pride!  Losing the Race.

“Please God help me,” the sinner begs.
Shaitan smiles and stirs the dregs.
The soul of Man spits down like stones
thrown without mercy at mercy overthrown.

A Fire of Men and Stones!
The flames a’crackle; the ground, she groans.
Fleeting, the expression, ‘Please save me!’
Shaitan names the mob; mommy.

Men and Stones afire!
Souls burn bright upon the funeral pyre!
But not as bright as truth overthrown
Virgins tremble!  ****** groan!

“Please God!  Are you there?”
Nothing answers, not even the air
that rises high in a silent sneer
from the pyre that draws all so near.

Pray not for men; they will not hear or atone
for they are the fire of Men and Stone.
Victor D López Mar 2019
God's second greatest creation is man,
Formed from clay into which He breathed new life,
Then perfected His creation in Eve,
Not from base clay but Adam’s flesh and bone.

On Adam God practiced His creation,
In Eve perfected it tweaking its flaws,
More heart, less hubris; more sense, less muscle,
More love less hate; focused on “us” not “me.

Sacred texts written by men disagree,
With what is only a most obvious truth,
God's truth whispered in men's ears only proves,
None are so deaf as those who will not hear.

Thus women have been blamed for all men's woes,
From Adam's fall to every earthly sin,
Marginalized, objectified and scorned,
As easy targets for men’s jealous rage.

Mankind is so much less than womenkind,
In all the ways that count save in brute strength,
Brute strength served tyrants well six thousand years,
Alas, serves tyrants well still to this day.

Barefoot and pregnant, subservient and poor,
Unschooled, unheard, and too often unloved,
Their primary role a breeding vessel,
To pleasure men and give them healthy sons.

No voice, no vote, no power and no hope,
To this day blamed by some for all man's ills,
Victims of **** ****** for their victimhood,
Honor killings from men most honorless.

The miracle of life was gifted you,
Men plant the seed and then their job is done,
They can wander away to plow new fields,
While women nurture life--cradle to grave.

I am in awe of all that you endure,
And all that you accomplish throughout life,
Diamonds treated like broken glass by fools,
Whose brilliance shines only in their own minds.

I am a son of Adam, share his flaws,
And know full well women have their faults too,
Yet for me hope for all humanity,
Rest with Eve’s daughters, not with Adam’s sons.
Katy Maravala Nov 13
i.
I do not hate men. I do not rue the day you were born. I do not sit with my friends and think of ways to hurt you back. I do not egg your car or sign you up for spam mailing lists. I do not fantasize of casting a hex on you. I do not ruminate the many ways in which I want you to fail. I do not stay awake at night wondering how you can be so careless with another person’s beating heart. I especially do not miss you.

ii.
All the Bell Hooks in the world could not save you now. All the palo santo and sage can’t undo what you’ve done. All the quasi therapy speak of intentionality and avoidant attachment won’t turn back the clock. All the protests you attend or statistics you repost cannot scrub away your sins. Who are you without an audience? Who are you in the dark? Oh, how well I know you now.

iii.
I liked all that you said before, but for your information, you lied.
So, save your words or swallow them. I no longer want to be known by you. You’re nothing but a lost thing. Honorless, a mercenary, a slave to those intrusive thoughts. A performer, an actor, a dancing monkey and I am your ***** grinder.

— The End —