Monday, December 1, 2008

Bad Poetry #24

After seeing a beautiful pregnant woman I didn't know - by me

I see her there both ugly and beautiful.
I don’t know her, I just know her type.
I see her there—her belly a fleshy tool.
She just sits there, pretending to be ripe.

I whisper...

She looks gross to thee like a cookie-cutter dream.
Blasphemy! they yell onto me with pointed fingers.
She’s penetrated by a seed, built for some overseers scheme.
I like the lonely...and how my death lingers.

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