Holy Culling

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
An angry testament to love gone sour

Submitted: November 10, 2006

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Submitted: November 10, 2006

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So I got turned on by FHM's true stories;

Are your Catholic ears so wounded by the truth?

I don't claim to understand great mind's concepts,

But you declare to comprehend

The finer points of furied hurling,*

As your priests profess

To know the Will of your God

 

As if such base things as we,

Who crawl like vermin

Beneath a sun that took a millenia to fathom,

Could imagine perfection.

But, at least I know myself enough;

I was taught not to feel shame

For eating the fruits of the harvest

 

Like a Goddess, I gave.

And like your God,

Like a strong, strong man,

You reaped.

 

*Hurling is an Irish sport


© Copyright 2018 Nicola Jane. All rights reserved.

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