"unsubstantiated" poems
Do not bother me with your absurd theories;
Reason, logic, and evidence have no place
In the heart of the true and righteous believer.
Faith in holy texts should be your guide,
Your faith should be blind, unadulterated, and quintessential, or
Risk a dreadful and eternal damnation.
If Einstein knew so much
Why do they call his premise the “Theory of Relativity”?
If Darwin was so sharp, why is it the most
He could up with was the “Theory of Evolution”?
The answer is simple, they really had no clue,
They simply did some scientific research and, in the end,
They came up with nothing more than theories.
And, what about all those archeologists
Claiming the earth is billions of years old, or
Cosmologists with their “Big Bang Theory.”
Everything is nothing more than
Theories, theories, theories.
Turn your back on these absurdities;
Trust, instead, the ancient, sacred texts
That offer immutable, unquestionable truths.
How ludicrous the idea that
The world is more than 10,000 years old,
(Carbon dating of fossil rocks is just mambo-jumbo)
The universe and all creation
Were made in six days,
God, tiring after all that work,
(Wouldn't you after working 24/6?)
Rested on the seventh day.
It's there in black and white,
For everyone to see.
(Assuming you've read the right version)
Men were created from a clod of clay,
(Or mud, but you get the point)
Women from the rib of man
(Which is why they should be subservient to men).
What nonsense from biologist and paleontologist
That claim we evolved from micro-organisms and apes,
This notion is total sacrilege, a blasphemy.
Life is too complicated, too complex to just evolve,
Intelligent Design is the only answer,
All the talk to the contrary is nonsensical hyperbole.
God made everything happen.
Read the holy texts, the truth is as obvious,
As plain as the tip of your nose.
Everyone knows that all the anthropological data,
All the purported archeological digs,
With reports of dinosaurs and missing links,
Are fabricated to fit nerd scientists' preconceived notions of
What they would like everyone to believe.
When in doubt, refer to the holy texts,
You will see all the unsubstantiated, ludicrous claims
For what they really are:
Trash, trash, and more trash.
Do not bother me with your facts, or
Your scientific data or findings;
In the end, everything boils down to more idiotic theories.
Have unquestioning, blinding, and total faith,
Read the holy texts and they will set you free.
So, the next time someone questions your beliefs,
Claiming there is no merit or facts to support them,
Remind them that to question the word of God
Will send them, along with their theories,
Straight to hell.
Amen!
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 6:19 PM UTC
The boards creak and moan
from time and poor carpentry
The nails gripped by aged wood
have become crust collected and
shrunken to form
The bare walls once displayed
the smiling faces
of past eons but now
there are only the faded remnants
of square foundations
of lives that once
hung on the wall
The stairs complain
like an old man
from unsubstantiated fears
The second floor
seems solid only responding
to the remarks of my shoes
The old bedroom
once the center of attraction
overlooks the buckled sidewalks
and **** infested yards
of a street that now has no cars
or people passing by
I stand in silence for the moment
and the moment stands silent for me
And for that moment
I lay in time's eternal graveyard
in hopes of reviving dead dreams
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
The summation of incredible moments of unsubstantiated ecstasy we both once shared
Are only to be realized on the aftermath
Of cold, solid reality that it is ceased on the resounding note of tragedy
Wells of tears unseen, piles of letters unsent, composition of melodies unfinished,
Unspoken desires to be fathomed silently on the backs of a lonely romantic, idealistic mind
Who dances solemnly on these fragile footsteps of a love,
That is forever lost, non-refundable, and unattainable.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
She sits in stoop, low over the sodden earth
Pressing herself to leave an impression in the muck
some sort of public confession,
That she actually exists.
Swallowing whole all things dead and dying, but
Her own unsubstantiated concept of
Living, defying her purpose
In insipid contradictions
To her needless desperation to grow.
To prove her own mass substantial
Absorbing into herself all things that seem too real,
That threaten her absoluteness
That threaten to have existed before her
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 1:18 AM UTC
Today, my train of thought
Is a bit off track.
It's a dark and confusing smokestack.
You see, questions abound.
So buckle in as I go to town.
Which cider you on?
Apple or hard?
If a tree falls on a copier
And no one is around to see it,
Does it make a forest?
I'm rooting for yes; but quite unsure.
How many coins can a fountain hold?
I wish I knew.
Is Paul dead or the walrus?
Is Paul dead AND the walrus?
Coo coo ca choo.
What's the beef about red meat?
It fills but kills? It sells but fells?
Who knows!
The proof is in the pudding.
All other desserts are unsubstantiated,
I suppose.
If peanut butter leaves Los Angeles
Traveling east at 100 miles per hour,
And jelly leaves New York
Traveling west twice as fast,
Will they become a sandwich when they meet?
What a treat if they did.
Maybe one day these
Universal questions will be solved.
But for now, I'm quite dizzy
From all the lunacy involved.
Catch you later...
Apr 14, 2023
Apr 14, 2023 at 3:42 PM UTC
alliteration
delving delusory,
a literati shun
thy commissions,
galore,
the line goes around the
corner
Entrusted.
write us a prayer -
as if I were thus worthy
t'is a delusion
which is worse than
Illusion
my fingers command me -
not I, them
I scribe inky,
they write what they deem
the most unfitting fulfilling
thy requests
more crosses to bear,
this Jew has walked the
Via Dolorosa
then, and again,
now
oh yes delve delve
with archaic *****
turn over earth unsubstantiated
long time un~disturbed
**"bring us your truths
in whatever form
they spill from you"**
Thus, they command me, Lord
**"Go back to living,
like it used to be.
No more tortured soul
to slow you down"**
Thus, they command me, Lord
sleep restful,
feet bathed,
Pavorotti & Pachelbel
comforted,
let it go,
live the fleeting,
well,
drink the wine,
wafer, taste,
Jew,
but stay away from the confessional
don't
delve into your own
thesaurus
when opened,
one can vision
right through us
don't
delve in to the recesses
thankfully receding, eroding,
except for the enlightening flashbacks
that stone cold come with no
forewarning
don't
let the sin memories
of ancient words,
black gold bubble up
with the first striking of the blade
Delve
(excavate your soul deep)
Not
I did not come this poem to write
I did not come to repeat
Solomon's poem,
nothing new under the sun
don't,
daunting
wish to delve into my delusions,
my original sin
the deceit
the conceit
I am unique
I am original
but let us weave as I best could
diagrammed prayers
as the sun rises over my eastern river
for it the seventh day,
the sabbath day,
which the commandments
commend as the day to remember and
*to keep it holy.
Six days you shall labor,
and do all your work,
but the seventh day is a Sabbath
to the LORD your God.
On it you shall not do any work,
you, or your son, or your daughter,
your male servant, or your female servant,
or your livestock,
or the*
sojourner
*who is within your gates.
For in six days the LORD
made heaven and earth, the sea,
and all that is in them,
and rested on the seventh day.
Therefore the LORD
blessed the Sabbath day
and made it holy.*
no delving today
I will observe thy reader's,
all of them my teacher's,
commandments
rest easy,
spill no truths this day
but on the new born morrow
I shall fresh
delve and sin again
and write them
joyful hymns
to sing
on the profane workweek,
for my torture,
my spilled and soiled truths
shall be
re-presented
to joyous comfort
and then,
I shall sojourn among them
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
when for what
have you
stare
in
to
eyes
that are
what for when
ewe took my hand along yore swollen perambulations into nights devoid of air
ewe have never swallowed a trace of light that ewe cannot reflect upon as dust
entombed in heavens disassembled from unleavened brethren
there was always
a core to yore
whimsical strut
as if an avenue
could hold yore
internals eternal
those mettling metals we unleash upon with our ****** toes
galavanting
pearls asunder thunder’s weeping reigns of unsubstantiated all
never there was
a timid breath
ewe did not urn
as if spells of broken gesticulations could volley
a scant clue of what it was to become nothing
that type that trite time follows as we sear
magic into our concrete organs
as if all concrete weren’t asphalt awaiting coal
i succumbed upon your neck
and caught sinewy glimpses of your entanglements as if driven into shock
ewe never stopped smiling
and
in
me
ewe
never
will
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
The world weighs down upon the life examined.
But life is unsubstantiated;
Proof is sought in the darkness
with unbeautiful hands that extend
gracelessly into the unknowable,
Desperate for the horizon.
And we set ourselves on fire,
burning in blue flames,
to escape what we can't control
and to remember what it means to exist.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
When the rain is cold and pelting
When the windstorm shreds the trees
Do you find your courage wanting?
Is there weakness in the knees?
Have you faced the dark intruder?
Have you stared that challenge down?
Have you summoned forth the fortitude,
To keep humiliation gowned?
Camouflaged the leaden spinelessness,
That dreaded empty space,
Where once there was a warrior
Who wore courage on his face.
Felt the thrashing of the current
As the waves come pounding in,
Inexorably it lacerates
And tears the fair white skin.
The brutality of bedrock,
The blackness of the night,
And the fear that runs like mercury
Through the torment and the fright.
The uselessness of effort,
The lassitude of limb,
It’s the cramping ague of gutlessness
That is consuming him.
Dissipating storm clouds
The skies begin to clear
And with it go emergencies
And with it goes the fear.
Residually it lingers
As a gnawing hollow blend
Of anxious blue inadequacies,
Of unsubstantiated end
To performance under duress,
Compared to that which is the norm,
It’s just a blinding lack of courage
Whilst in the torment of the storm.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
24 November 2008
Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 10:00 AM UTC
Post ******
beautiful woman
oh that was sublime
you said
you never
had a man
love your *** like that before
i loved the way
you giggled
and cooed
as i nuzzled your
little dark rose ****
and licked and ******
like a rippling lake
that kisses wading toes
how you looked up
with those eager
bright eyes
your hair flat back
like a picture frame
your gorgeous plush
lips cradling my ****
your head danced
back and forth
like voodoo princess
Ayida
possessed of the
**** ****
lick ****
rhythms
that drive men
to lusts insanity
in the end
somehow
we ended up in another room
blood and ****
stained walls and floors
cries fluttered little curtains
i forced your body like grapes
through a garlic press
so i could drink you down
my mouth stained
my bones dyed the color of your eye pits
you begged
shimmering
nail me to the floorboards
fill my veins with your blood
fling me to the moon
caress my shadow soul
where i'm alone
in the sleep world
and then
came the convulsive
muscular *******
wave upon heaping wave
tsunamis of guttural ecstasy
and for a moment
stasis
our cries echo
sticking to walls
like unsubstantiated specters
that now haunt
in perpetuity
and then there is
obsession
and kisses
and kisses
and kisses
mouthwatering kisses
and we both know
kisses like this should never end
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 1:11 PM UTC
I don’t give a **** who runs the world
Just so long as they keep their anonymous women out of the picture
And don’t knowingly, crash cymbals on Sundays.
Whilst I’m ominously left of centre and kinda’ right of everywhere else,
I can’t help but watch the political circus perform.
Polititians everywhere, particularly, currently in the USA, are flexing their muscle, using the tools of their trade to the best advantage:
Coercion, persuasion, exaggeration, the blantant use of unsubstantiated facts, manipulation, outright lies and even overbearing bullying.
I hear them rant, I see them strut.
Their egos blooming like peach blossom,
Projecting themselves on the populace.
Preening their image with self serving eyes, loving themselves shining brightly on the podium in the morning sun.
But here today, gone tomorrow.
Their words hang, resonantly, like loud vapour suspended…then vanish.
The believing crowd gathers, sways, roars, disperses…and promptly forgets.
The circus is global, playing out its’ performance with expediency, bombast, and utter disregard for consequence, collateral damage incurred in achieving their immediate imperatives…to Hell with the tomorrow ahead.…
Occurring simultaneously everywhere…you can watch the circus performing daily in Amsterdam, Washington, Beijing, Kolcutta, Canberra, Munich, London, Capetown, St. Petersburgh, etc.etc.
Watching this, with a sense of disbelieving astonishment, I’m amazed that anyone actually bothers to take any notice anymore?
M.
11 February 2016
Foxglove farm, Taranaki NZ
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC
Blank pages, sick thoughts, strange recollections on an overcast July sky,
America at war, fires set in Denver, Nazis dead in Sacramento, immortalized in the thoughts and prayers of talking heads, all those spineless liberals afraid to take the plunge, buy the ticket take the ******* ride, meanwhile Missouri looks like Belfast '75, Detroit like Dresden '45, Baltimore can't maintain, unsubstantiated claims of Providence, more sinister tidings out of Washington, they know the last American hero died 4 years ago now we're trying to keep up appearances, can't maintain, trouble carried in on all four winds, the Devil in the Southern sky, hysteria on the television, nothing but nostalgia on the radio, no progress, talking in circles about guns again, no clear endgame here just numbers thrown at the wall, something might stick, somethings gotta stick, somethings gotta stick,
A man clutches a newborn child to his chest, asks me if I think he should **** the thing, I say that's between you and your God leave me out of it,
A black boy blows his brains out on the statehouse steps, out of options, a final statement to pierce the veil of bureaucratic esoterica, blood of love and rage and hope staining concrete for generations,
Desperation, something on the rise, chaos in any direction
God hasn't returned the President's calls since '81, Jimmy Carter deserved better, we all deserve better,
Cold rain in summer, cigarettes, celebrations, weddings and funerals, uncertainty in all things,
Tomorrow the bombs will go up, and no one can be sure where they will land
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
Race - ism is
a
myth
m a d e
of
*****
sneaky
pipe bombs
filled
with
the
shrapnel
of
Wars
P a s t
P r e s e n t
F u t u r e
A
sinister
s t o r y
of
tradition
explaining away
unsubstantiated
social phenomenon
built on
widely held
perpetuated
ideas
of
falsehood
Humanity.
Reboot.
Start over.
Children,
colour within the lines
b e g i n
&
e n d
with a program
of
t r u t h;
keywords:
c r o w s
a r e
b l a c k
~ QB
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
Let's be real. It's fine to be
Skeptical when others say
"God has given this land to us."
The appropriate response: "No way!"
One group says, "This land is ours!"
Another counters: "That's not true.
We believe it was given to us!"
And then fighting breaks out anew.
Using the scriptures to justify
The occupation of others' lands
Provides a shaky argument
And unsubstantiated demands.
When we ignore the allegorical
Nature of all religion, we lose.
So much death and destruction occur
When myths influence political views.
In truth, there is no Promised Land;
No one is a chosen one.
There is only the voice of reason.
Listen, and let its will be done.
-by Bob B (11-14-23)
Nov 14, 2023
Nov 14, 2023 at 2:58 PM UTC
Purge the soul with self-flagellations, if you so desire.
Vanity finds no fulfilment by the power of conscience and the rhythm of Jazz rocks the intricate aspects of familiarity.
So, my brothers and sisters of our Great and Mighty Family, I urge you to relax and to abstain from your impulses.
Guilt is empowered by unsubstantiated perceptions of what we think is reality. But what is in it for you?
Freshly baked bread conveys a pleasing aroma that is not unfamiliar to the patriots of New England.
The Early Settlers understand.
I would recommend that you let it go. Do not rise to it. Simply feel the pulse.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
How they acquit themselves.
spit and ******** wrapped in dung
and flung out to the waiting press.
It's a flaming mess
make no mistake
we cannot take
what is not ours.
More flowers of our Nations youth
one more unsubstantiated truth
and we all fall down.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
*i can write like this, offer legal advice to someone who misguided their vehicle into a KEEP CLEAR area... you ever seen the A12 junction at romford's north street intersection where the same road indicators are painted? you ever see the traffic where the north street opposite directions try to engage with A12? how they're stagnant on the patch-work of the KEEP CLEAR indication? you know what i was writing about? a violition of the same symbol being "abused" in Goodmayes... with some very minor side-street... law... by human standards is just a knowledge of the: thesaurus... oh i can write this ******** language alright... first i write a poetic joke on day 1... then i revise it... censoring my comparison with a wildebeest stampede comparison being able to run through the space provided, contradicting the "obstruction"... eh... the human concept of law... equivalent to haemorrhoids obstructing a constipation from a rock-hard ****
To whomever it may concern:
as stated above with the appropriately ticked box – i.e. that there was no violation of an order to comply with the road sign. I put my case forward on the basis relating to the bias with regard to the positioning of the camera that precipitated in the penalty charge being filed. To detail this bias, I can only state that the evidence is biased due to the angle of the camera that could ever allow the penalty being issued. I state that I have a competence in understanding he basic principle of the road sign KEEP CLEAR – yet from the accusative evidence provided in the photograph is rather an over-estimation of what sort of obstruction I was creating. I understand that the intent to have a KEEP CLEAR sign at this particular point in the road network, is to allow oncoming traffic to be able to turn into the side street (Eastwood Rd) – but as the evidence clearly indicates, there is no obstruction for a vehicle to enter the road from the oncoming traffic, or from behind me. I appreciate that there is obstruction for a vehicle being driven out of Eastwood Rd – but as the photograph also serves the argument that there was traffic on the High Rd. May I add that one photograph does not justify the argument that I made the obstruction for an excessive amount of time – I would grant a justification for the penalty, had I the chance to see a larger body of evidence; such as: a second or third party vehicle being obstructed from not being able to join other vehicles in the commute on either Eastwood Rd or the High Rd. In conclusion, I find the body of evidence to be unsubstantiated with regard to the amount demanding a penalty.
Kind regards
yours, "anonymous".
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
They let that devil go nine times
And as a consequence
Children continued to be molested
Does that make any sense
He was reported time and time again
Since nineteen sixty eight
But the system didn’t catch up with him
Until it was much too late
Nine times he was reported
And still they let him go
Charges were unsubstantiated
Even thought the children let ‘em know
Children continued being sent
To his house of horror
Where he wore his cloak of invincibility
As if it were an aura
And so he cast a shadow of doubt
That covered him for decades more
Before they were able to figure out
He was a molester for sure
Nine times he was reported
And still they let him go
Charges were unsubstantiated
Even though the children let ‘em know
Most of the victimized children
Who were forced to endure
His personalized brand of terror
Aren’t there anymore
But new ones came into his lair
Just like they did before
And this went on year after year
But it doesn’t happen anymore
Why did it take seemingly forever
For him to get indicted
But now that he finally has
And his litany has been recited
The latest of which involved seven children
As well as the family dog
It’s a hell of a case they’re finally building
Now that they’re in whole hog
Nine times he was reported
And still they let him go
Charges were unsubstantiated
Even though the children let ‘em know
They let that devil go nine times
And as a consequence
Children continued to be molested
Does that make any sense
He was reported time and time again
Since nineteen sixty eight
But the system didn’t catch up with him
Until it was much too late
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 9:59 AM UTC
A consequence of merriment and early summer
Warmth, conspired to put him on that midnight lawn.
Lying there supine, his innocent thoughts drift
Amidst the sweet pungent scent of honeysuckle and mingle
With the stale wine on his breath. There is beauty in decay
He thinks, and only death and beauty can flower in creation.
The supreme bounty of all is death and the life there in.
In the dark garden he dreams a little of paradise
Not the mistake of paradise, but a consummate paradise
Unsubstantiated, and free from the vestige of interpretation.
It is here where all else is shadowed and dark,
That he sees clearly a myriad of blossoming colours,
Sharp transfusions of light that glow from leaf to blade.
And he thinks to himself, as he dreams a little now,
Amidst this broad wash of sunshine all around
It cannot yet be midnight in the garden
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 3:04 PM UTC
Just bland insipid opaque walling
uninspiring without toned definitions
soft spongy frothy carrying anemic lustre
layers easily bruised and prone to blemishes and sagging
glassed visors in various hues incisively ablaze with wants
and inside its not much different from external
furnishings spare and mostly structurally unsound
temperamental ambiance cold-cool yet warm to touch
craving notoriety and attention, loudly challenging in compensation
as foundations are inherently weak yet stands in malleable grandiosity
adverse to too much heat yet resplendent in enough sunshine
vacuous and airy with amplified audio and echoing facilities
though content and range always lacking in real truth substance
Bungalows short of a brick, built on mud, foundation not strong
Readily prone to quakes, husky, hollow, flaky, generally unsound
homogenized, common, unsubstantiated and extremely deceiving
Never good investments, these properties will rob you and ruin you
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
you hold your hands up
--to stop it?--
you, erbärmliches Behagen
--to fend it off?--
you pathetic creature
--reaching?--
**** yourself
--realing--
disgusting striving toward nothing
disregard your feeling and your noteworthiness
nothing of value
--to stop it?--
you are nothing of value
--to fend it off?--
heart beating
wind howling
permeable gestures in the dark
green-on-black horizon over an invisible sea
something could be out there
who knows
who asks
who sees
you do, in your wordless way
choke on your breath
muttering incongruously to yourself
was it here before-- has it come around again?
small, blue metal sphere, indifferent to you
flies into back of your head
where it has been
(indifferent or not different from your suffering,
its impact is one and the same with you)
please stay, you mumble as it darts away again
that's why, you wonder
that's why, you think
you are lost in your unsubstantiated thought
you blink
relieved everything came out this way
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 5:11 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester,
They let that devil go nine times
And as a consequence
Children continued to be molested
Does that make any sense
He was reported time and time again
Since nineteen sixty eight
But the system didn’t catch up with him
Until it was much too late
Nine times he was reported
And still they let him go
Charges were unsubstantiated
Even thought the children let ‘em know
Children continued being sent
To his house of horror
Where he wore his cloak of invincibility
As if it were an aura
And so he cast a shadow of doubt
That covered him for decades more
Before they were able to figure out
He was a molester for sure
Nine times he was reported
And still they let him go
Charges were unsubstantiated
Even though the children let ‘em know
Most of the victimized children
Who were forced to endure
His personalized brand of terror
Aren’t there anymore
But new ones came into his lair
Just like they did before
And this went on year after year
But it doesn’t happen anymore
Why did it seemingly take forever
For him to get indicted
But now that he finally has
And his litany has been recited
The latest of which involved seven children
As well as the family dog
It’s a hell of a case they’re finally building
Now that they’re in whole hog
Nine times he was reported
And still they let him go
Charges were unsubstantiated
Even though the children let ‘em know
They let that devil go nine times
And as a consequence
Children continued to be molested
Does that make any sense
He was reported time and time again
Since nineteen sixty eight
But the system didn’t catch up with him
Until it was much too late
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
Hateful campaigns polarize
The public; salacious scandals abound;
Demagogues stir up the voters;
Vicious rumors are passed around;
Threats are made if one's opponent
Wins the race; fake news spreads;
Internal strife within the parties
Has the members at loggerheads;
Security leaks flow from the top;
Vitriolic accusations
Denigrate opponents; we hear
Of more and more allegations;
Threats are levied at the free press;
The masses suspect the educated;
Verbal assaults on the judiciary
Are brazen and unsubstantiated;
Fears of election fraud are raised;
Hypocrisy knows no end;
Little attention is paid to the truth
As people don't care whom they offend;
Candidates "pump the popular passions";
Hush money's paid; stories don't jibe
As lawmakers find themselves
Susceptible to paying a bribe.
It sounds like politics and elections
In America from what we've seen
Happening in the past few years
Leading up to twenty eighteen.
But this was also America
In the year 1800. Since such
Chaos occurred back then as well,
It shows we haven't changed that much.
-by Bob B (3-30-18)
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
I walked through that door
They said "please, sit down"
"We've got some bad news,
And it's all over town"
"Someone said something,
And said it was you"
"She said that you touched her,
We know that's not true"
I've always loved kids
In all the right ways
I never looked AT THEM
Not even sideways
Along comes His Ex
His Ex with a grudge
She took my good name
And turned it to sludge
We all were questioned,
By all the experts
Questions that frightened
And questions that hurt
And "NO"was the answer
The little girl said
"Oh, I sat on his lap"
"But!, he only read!"
"Unsubstantiated" was
The word that they used
It stays with you always
A huge mental bruise
Forty years later
I keep them at bay
NO!, It's not right
But how it will stay
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 10:13 AM UTC