The Death of Innocence

the greatest lies in poetry and hiphop

begin with “my mama told me…”

oh, please

 

perhaps you were a shy boy who hid from visitors

that came to fuck your mom

your mom taught you how to knit and draw

you loved the company of women and t

their smell of onions

and expired body lotion

society called you a sissy

 

and you had sex with your sister and cousins

out of innocent curiosity of

discovering humanity’s biggest secret weapon: sex

big books called it incest

 

you peeled back your tiny penises in the bush

you and your kindergaten buddy

and tried to fit it in your friend’s poophole

just following desire’s blinding instinct

now society calls you gay

 

something you should fight for

to be morally accepted

 

just.fucking.LABELS!

 

perhaps your old uncle used to send you to his grizzled friend

to fetch him grass to roll in a big newspaper joint

and uncle would smoke it. yellow teeth. weezing cough

and uncle would tell you funny stories

and your head would go dizzzy

you know what they government would call you now?

drug peddler

smoke that!

 

you could play with your balls in your tiny room

touch your foreskin and sniff smegma

and it felt good. really good

now the good books call it masturbation

that it attracts sex demons

and you are going to hell for touching your very own penis

and clit

 

‘nd that’s how they killed

‘our inner child

‘ed you fear and bullshit

 

perhaps all you wrote in your tiny wish-book was

becoming president

and feeding the poor

they now tell you your tribe is a tiny voiceless

piece of shit and your father is poor

they got you carrying placards in the street.

burning tires. frustrated

tweeting

#OccupyParliament

 

sadly

you believe you’re dying for a cause

 

of course, sir

 

your dreams

are now your adversary

 

you could hunt down lizards and smash them to pulp

out of man’s natural animal instinct

our ancestors grew up in caves anyway

now New Age and Buddhism will condemn you to a karmic cycle

of becoming a lizard when you die

religion. is. a. fucking. joke

 

you could throw stones to passers-by

and punch the bloody-nose hell out of any boy that touched your brother

now they send you to Somali or Iraq to die for the lords of war and oil

they will call you a patriot

when you die shooting a man on orders

                              “there are no winners in war

just dead soldiers”

 

This IS How You Died:-

 

you could play in the mud, share a cookie,

a stub of pencil, child-fuck,

dry hump, hug, tug

with other kids:

brown, black, white,

fat, ugly,

cleft-mouth, skinny,

croppy hair, wavy hair,

obese; you didn’t care

now they tell you

the Brownies are mean and they have robbed Africa,

the Blacks are lazy and stupid video game addicts,

the Whites are racists and they are the reason your ass is broke,

the Fat are corrupt and will die of stroke,

the Uglies can’t be on TV,

…they got you hating all of humanity

 

now, tell me,

what did your mama tell you again?

 

Get a grip, muddafucka.

 

 

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About Wudz

A scribe. A psychonaut.
This entry was posted in Philsophical Poems, Poetry, Prose Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

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