A poem started by picking random words out of a book, then making questions. |
Noor, modern science is a joke. Mad lab coats run to make a new chemical That they convince people to pump into their veins. Has it ever occurred to you that traditional may not mean primitive That bananas are nature’s Pepto Bismol That a lemon will calm your fever. Whose are those voices that tell you to do right or wrong? What are you thinking As you hold the knife to the sheep’s neck? Did you farm that day, working hard For the beast that now lies before you, terrified? Did you blindfold it so it won’t see the knife? Did you perform the sacrifice away from the other carcass? Did you give it corn as it waited its turn? Did you put water in its mouth so that it died satisfied? Do you remember when we would sneak cigarettes out of your dad’s packs And as the house slumbered We would trifle and smoke and Be happy? Where are you now? So far away that you haven’t been able to call? Perfection is sitting dizzy and tired in blaring air conditioning, Suffocating heat waiting right outside the door. Noor, there is a difference between perfection and flawlessness Despite what the thesaurus may tell you. |