Patriarchy And Poppies
Patriarchy And Poppies1 min 246 1 min 246
Full moon and you— werewolf, wall-crawler, shapeshifter?
Mythological origin— patriarchal
Cities, chauvinistic towns?
Your cigar pipes, my
Scarred thighs— anachronistic constellation?
Gossamer masculinity hangs from hula
Hoops like wild, funny tassels.
Unbroken hymen— your house of worship?
Menstruating vagina, and smell of
Your warm semen— your choice of politics?
In front of the lecherous Gods
Of Amsterdam, I'm the
Whore or are you the pimp?
Misogynistic biblical verses— the
hamartia of your masculine birth, perhaps.
My ambitions, your handcrafted
Hunting knife— the weapon
I write my poetries with the ink of
A male pseudonym.
You’re a beast that even my
Silver locket cannot chase away.
You say I'm a derivative; I was created out of
A man’s rib.
Descendants of Adam, what was wheat
But a grain? What was penis but flesh?
You’re street hawkers and peddlers
Of rapes; foeticide is your satanic monarchy.
Leather belts make artwork
On my scattered body.
Those bruised tattoos sigh—
What should I not loathe you for?