By slug
Date: 15 August 2000

Push-me-pull-you

It's a push-me-pull-you
     Of the personified sort
        The sort that leaves dead mice on your back porch
And expects you to be proud,
                  Not proud,
                      Proud could you never be of that which you hate.
                                                          Define hate.
     Define it and tell me it's the opposite of love.
                   But that's a lie.
        The opposite of love is indifference.
                         I feel indifference like a plague.
                         I feel the brunt of apathy.
    Edible women arranged on a plate,
               Garnished with desire and apathy...and hate.
 Only the words of the noble suffice,
 Only the gates of heaven are right.
      The path is marked - the way is clear --
  But the forest signs attract the deer -
                           and the hunters there poach
      The paradise bakers as they measure out time and
              Leave it on petals of flowers
     Which mark out the minutes, 
                    the seconds, 
                    the hours,
                      and notice the moments, remember
          Important memories are the glue of our souls --
                           which the liberated women have in vice-grip holds.