Work in progress titles: Pregnant 10 year old incest survivor would like to have a word; If Only I Was A Prophet
Our Bodies
Baby baby, let me show you where the bodies are buried.
Gonna take you to the secret treasure trove I’ve carried
and stacked in a heap as my charmed foundation.
I’m no one unless there’s someone to place blame on.
Yeah, Baby. Let me show you the bodies I’ve collected
numbering above and beyond what my forefathers expected.
Don’t think for a second I’m gonna slow down.
Keep giving me grief and you’re next in the ground.
Slow motion is for losers, too much time to think.
I’m a man of action and impeccable instinct;
a perfect specimen, an unimpeachable ringer
with more balls than anyone in my little finger.
Less of you
so I don’t diminish.
Less of you.
Better let me finish.
Less of you
so don’t give me any trouble.
Less of you
so I can be comfortable.
I get what I want all the time—I’m a winner!
I’m far too well bred to be considered a sinner.
Put on my pants like everyone else, only better.
I’ve searched the whole earth and found no competitor.
Less for you
so I can have billions.
Less for you
as you’ll be my minions.
Less for you
and I win the game.
Less for you
‘cause I’m turned on by your pain.
I’ll show you where the bodies rot is dishonor.
Though I’ve rejected the ones who survived the horrors
born of wars, massacres, holocausts--those who escaped persecution.
The belief they’re superior to me is an illusion.
So I’ll show you the place where the bodies are buried.
I’m getting pissed off—you should be more worried!
Are you so stupid you’ve no fear of your fate that awaits,
or my craving for your suffering which never abates?
And she says…well…
Less of me,
more of the divine.
You think you want to hurt me?
Then GET THE FUCK IN LINE.
Less of me
but for you, more guilt
forever entombed
in the catacombs you’ve built,
hewn from total faith in wealth, entrusted,
trapped behind the insecurities-born walls
you’ve constructed.
Less of you
while you eat out your heart.
Less of you
‘til your soul departs.
So, where would you like your body to be buried?
We’ve got all day, so don’t feel hurried.
Though, true, only the Lord knows your time allotted,
we count the days until your name’s forgotten.
Quiet reflection is your friend,
particularly as one is approaching their end.
Sandra K. King 2024
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