Somewhere in the world, there is a young girl
Poring over magazines, and hollow celebrities,
With a father, standing over shoulder,
Fearing (knowing) how men will meet her gaze
While growing older, into an object of culture
Captivated by perky breasts
And rock-hard phalluses,
Fueled by masculinity.
There is a young man, corrupted by pornography,
Ten thousand years of evolution—
Internet, radio, bringing the world together—
Only to bask in barbaric root:
The fleshly skin, the soaking genitals,
The moaning and screaming and heavy breathing (but no kissing),
The fake tits, and the oh so big, throbbing dicks;
He sleeps well, fooling his body
Into firm serenity.
And there are those who claim that money runs this world—
Greed, Fear, Power, Technology—
But no, it is only
Sex.
Nothing to Doubt Blog 