Rage

She was a twinkle in Grandfather’s eye
my lovely, precious mother

Objectified. An icon. Not human.

But she was my mother!

She would be 96 this year
were it not for erections
and selections of commodities
like me.

She was my MOTHER!

My mother, my mother, my mother
the one who brought me
from the timeless layer
of infinity.

Let me ask, then…

Let me ask of you
who on high took her
took her, took her, took her
for having me.

Let me ask, then…

Do your children need
their mother, the gun bearer?
Do they want her?
Their mother, mother fucker?

Let me ask, again…

Do their babies need her children?
Grandchildren yours, who
above it all should be below?
Below, below, below.

Bored rubes!

You’ve nothing better to do
than maim and command.
Not a relevant thought
to rub between brain cells.

Ah, to steal and do nothing!

Put on a show to lie
about my mother.

Fuck you.

And fuck the hags you rode in on.

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