Thursday, December 30, 2010


God knows how our neighbors managed to breed
great sow:

12, 18, beyond!
Training to compete against the other piglets.
Stare public. It's a prize winnin' pig show!

To gape at it:
It's not a show it's an act.
Closet abnormalities, not all so amused.

Thrifty children or dolted pigs?
Ripe for heckling,
It's easy to have a child, but to raise it well?

In a halo of greed
A flash of humor or lust it's seen.
What is left of your sister, wife, and mother?

Sulking in her hulk
To halt for a swig at the pink teats.
This vast Brobdingnag bulk.

Of a sow lounged belly.
Bedded in a compost of lies,
Fat-rutted, dream-filmed eyes.
What a vision of ancient hog-hood must be.

Thus wholly engross once prized now Hybrid.
Boar fabulous.

But the farmers whistle.
The sow come running.
Because it's safe?

Of kitchen slop and, stomach bile.
Proceed; to the swill.

We call them men, 'Priesthood holders', husbands....The leaders of a church(a corrupt organization). Those swine on my side of the fence often referrer to them as chauvinistic pigs. But who are the pigs in this picture? The men who are head of the house hold, or the pregnant women left to feel guilt over never expressing the desire to have a career, time for a book or a garden, a body that is still desired by their "eternal companions" Is it too much to ask. To have all the free choice and will of a man, even in a church setting. For all you women out there, it is. Because religions do not flow with nature to make sense. They set a standard based on one perspective. A solo standard with inadequate justifications only meant to control a stuck pig. I may still be a fat pig, but at least I am free at last from the grasp of a group of individuals designed to hold you down, fuck you up, and make you feel good about it.

I said no, can you?

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