His tribe taunts me
flaunting the American dream
like a six-pack picket fence
His body tempts me
into accidental procreation
He wants to plant his seed
He wants me to give him a legacy
but I’m wise to the tricks of this
modern day snake oil salesman
He’s selling lies
I serve his potion with wine
in twelve matching crystal glasses
and my dinner party
goes off splendidly
though the slide show on the tv screen
is of someone else’s family
and the soundtrack is rather awkwardly playing
music that someone will say they like but never hear again.
Someone will hum a note or two
absent-mindedly, later that night or the next day
but the source will be forgotten as in a dream
or more to the point – post lobotomy.
Someone may well be awoken
and say quietly some thing equally important
before busying themselves into remission-
staving off the bestial cohabitation
of body and soul for yet another day.
Some one may thank you.
Some one may shake your hand.
Someone may touch you.
But they all affect you.
In the end, only the tribe remains
temptation exists for a reason
and evolution is not just a theory
if you don’t believe me
take a trip to the National History Museum.
The seed is always planted
whether in your womb
or the next.
Someone will get it.
Some one will experience pain
and finally understand
if only for a moment
but the source will be forgotten as in a dream
or more to the point – for all eternity.
Very nice post today thanks. I really enjoyed it. See you around!
Thank you, Amyree.
I still love to read you. Not the same though without your insight to help. Like reading an old poem or song lyric everyone thinks they know what it means yet look like fools when the reality is exposed. The minds of others we will never know.