Another poem for the prolifers.
Pastoral Counseling By Joe E. Dees
Her weeping is a tiny, tinny sound
Crawling from the fallen receiver.
Precautions have failed us. We have
A Situation to address. She
Came to me for consolation
A troubled teen unable to
Handle her desires: nor I mine.
Her flesh was firm and ripe
And mine weak.
I have betrayed my faith, flock and family
And the trust they and this girlchild placed in me.
Unable to bear this revelation spreading further
I choose my sole recourse, to betray anew
And to embrace iniquity and lie with abomination.
I lift the receiver and speak to her
In practiced tones, both balming and commanding.
Go to the clinic, I say; I'll pay for it.
And shudder as ghost nails rake my back like a lover's clutches:
A dead hare crossing the grave of my convictions.
>From [EMAIL PROTECTED] Tue Oct 20 17:36:25 1998
Date: Wed, 21 Oct 1998 07:38:00 +0800
To: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
From: bunny <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: Beliefs/poetry
Hi Joe,
I like your poems (below). Did you just write them or
have you a collection on the internet somewhere?
I write poetry occassionally and will have to get back to it.
Poetry is a great way of expressing ones thoughts.
Keep up the good work!
Re your reference to witch hunters, this reminds me
of ancient times. If we lived in times past, I would
probably have been burnt at the stake by now for my
free thinking :-) (or I would be hypocritically
spouting dogmas I didn't believe in to
escape this fate).
Marguerite
The Fundamentals by Joe E. Dees
"Abortion is murder!" the witch-burners bay
As they kneel on their hard wooden floors to pray
That all the damned heathens will see the light
And be saved from Hell's bondage by bonfire bright
And Cain's crosses glowing in southern night.
Our mothers and sisters and daughters and wives
Are reduced to receptacles, their whole lives
Possessed by one purpose; to nurture cells
More worthy of life, for they might be male
Like Jesus - thus wombs are warped into jails.
Poor Eve is the pattern primordial, damned
By gender, as race consigns sons of Hamm
To servitude - their God-burned cross their coal
Complexion, and if one should flee their fold
Love says,"Scourge the body to save the soul."
If knowledge of ethics is primal sin
Then "teaching all nations" commits again
That error, but teach they must, for their bane
Is difference; they're driven to all souls train
For Heaven. where all seraphs sing the same.
Pastoral Counseling By Joe E. Dees
Her weeping is a tiny, tinny sound
Crawling from the fallen receiver.
Precautions have failed us. We have
A Situation to address. She
Came to me for consolation
A troubled teen unable to
Handle her desires: nor I mine.
Her flesh was firm and ripe
And mine weak.
I have betrayed my faith, flock and family
And the trust they and this girlchild placed in me.
Unable to bear this revelation spreading further
I choose my sole recourse, to betray anew
And to embrace iniquity and lie with abomination.
I lift the receiver and speak to her
In practiced tones, both balming and commanding.
Go to the clinic, I say; I'll pay for it.
And shudder as ghost nails rake my back like a lover's clutches:
A dead hare crossing the grave of my convictions.
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