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Babies (Remove filter)

Dear Mister Stupidly of Braindead...

Dear Mister Stupidly of Braindead,

that genocide is not in my name;

starving babies to death,

your conscience won’t stain,

so I’m asking you, oh very nicely,

pretty please, will you bugger right off;

we’ll protest against murder,

we’ll protest ‘til it stops,

we’ll protest a lot further,

we’ll protest til the fucking penny has dropped,

we’ll protest a lot louder,

i...

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BraintreegenocidebabiesDover

Little Baby

Watching you grow 
brings joy to our eyes
You’ve got your Daddy 
to make you smile 
and your Mama 
to hold you tight 
while you sleep at night 
we'll make everything alright

First a crawl, walk, then run
O, to watch you grow is so much fun 
From your first skinned knee
a little kiss will make you believe 
we’ll be right here whenever you need

Years will pass
but this love will al...

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babiesparentsparents pridefamily

On Bodily Autonomy and Geriatric Femininity

They never ask, the old ladies.
They just hug, pinch, kiss and
Cuddle at will. Babies are theirs,
You know, and they do love them
So much. I guess it isn’t their fault,
No one ever told them they aren’t
Free to touch at will. I once told
A woman to get her hands out of
My hair, and she said no man
Had ever asked her to stop
Touching him before. As an old
Lady, I’m sure she became anothe...

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babiesbodily autonomyconsentfemininityfeminismtouching

The Almost Child

I remember exactly the spot

the place I sat

when she told me

I remember the cooling coffee

forgotten

when I was told

I remember the uncertainty

in her voice

when she told me

but

I remember how I smiled

the joy I felt

when I first knew

my almost son

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Babiessonspregnancyparentsmothersfathersnewsjoydelight

Cultivating Life

A traffic jam that spans an entire epoch

Is followed by daily punishments of

Dreary Sisyphean meanderings,

Followed by even more traffic

In sweltering heat and sticky humidity.

 

With all energy drained from

Lungs, limbs, and mind,

He shuffles into his house

Seeking only relief and brief reprieve.

 

As he unbuttons his soaked shirt,

“Do me,” assaults his ears

...

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procreationlifesexbabiespoetrywork

Nuclear Cradle Song

Nuclear Cradle Song

 

Bye, baby, bye

Cry, baby, cry

You cry so do I.

My tears have all run dry.

So cry, baby, cry

 

Cry, baby, cry

Bye, baby, bye

No use in asking why

Our dreams fell from the sky.

So cry, baby, cry, baby, cry.

 

Bye, baby, bye

Cry, baby, cry

No one to hear you cry.

No one to hear us try.

Oh, cry, baby, cry,...

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