No Intellect of Mine

 

     I am not so terrible,

I am not what you call ‘twisted,’

     But I am disturbed,

I am touched by so much pain

That in some way,

     I can only recognise it as love,

For love is not all roses and chocolates,

That’s if I am to believe those

Whom have wielded the whip!

 

     Frightening!

So frightening I do not

Inflict so much pain

Upon a fellow human;

Upon my own children,

     I do not want them

Bound by life’s harm,

Do not want them

Seeking the bondage

That some insist be perverse,

We do not hit our children,

In our house,

 

     For there is guilt in pain,

And sorrow,

     And there is no just reason

To give your child a life sentence

But some parents do it gleefully,

And they grow,

Grow tethered - asking

     Why?

 

     There is no such thing

As reasonable chastisement,

For we are not and I reiterate this,

We are not the Bonobos –

Intellects with paedophile

Inclinations state we are,

     For most men,

Are very much protectorates

Of their spouse and offspring,

 

     Some quarters of society

Try desensitize the populous

That child abuse has an accepted

Place among us,

     And for that,

I shout paedophile, paedophile, paedophile!

 

     And all heads engaged in

Seeking youngsters flesh

For sexual gratification,

Must roll, roll and roll -

     All the way to Downing Street,

To send a clear message

What the true majority

Of the UK think upon this

Practise,

     A practise,

That goes all the way

To the top of our elected,

     Again I shout,

Paedophile, paedophile, paedophile,

     Let them roll,

     Let them roll,

     Let them roll.

 

Michael J Waite 16th February 2016