Read Poem: men Are Trash, by Storm Cecile 

Men are the mirrors
of their fathers fathers.
Bootleg versions of
New and improved versions of trash.
A new generational curse that men
Are wasted space; traditional playboys
Men are trash.

Play boys without the toys just the box with no contents.
No produce.
Nothing to give
A gaping hole of wasted space and void
They are trash.

A waste of Gods breath and dust summoned from the core of
elemental disposition.

They are unfruitful words from a God
Who baptises the sun every day in its glory just so it can shine.

Men are trash.
A waste of core speech.
A waste of Gods day and perceptual time.
A waste of molecular compounds and temple
Of glory and gullible mess
But men are trash: Vipers.

The death sucking life out of fashionable brokens.
They never tell you the snake that lured Eve was male
From the genesis he was trash.

Complete and utter trash

If they are trash
Are our wombs the dumpster trucks God threw them in?
Are they a breeding ground for a bi product of shame?
Are our wombs are surely poisoned
And damaged?
Polluted? An inhabitable earth in the womb of our waters that births
tragedy and sorrow A 9 month Armageddon
And a lifetime of funeral

But men are trash.

Because men were always men
And boys were of course
never raised.

I guess we are all trash,
And our bodies are the toys we satisfy them with
The landfills that take them in
And breed these creatures.
Because of course God makes

By Storm Cecile


Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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