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    dots Submission Name: After Sunday Schooldots

    Author: beatthedrum
    ASL Info:    55- F - Southern CA USA
    Elite Ratio:    4.18 - 881/810/122
    Words: 219
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 839
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1529


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    dotsAfter Sunday Schooldots

    After Sunday school she had time
    to reflect and journal thoughts.

    Bodies are temples of God,
    with the exception of the basement.
    Don't go down there.

    It is dirty, dark and stinky

    or so they tell her to think.

    She nibbles lunch as she writes.
    Life is food, giving nourishment to grow,
    undigested portions must be disposed.

    Leaning back to reflect, she hopes
    one day to write a poem about the crap.

    She wants to spell the words without worry,
    where there's no adolescent giggling at bodily gurgling
    or disapproval of righteous religious dignitaries.

    She desires to speak in metaphors
    of the most common denominators,

    Emotions and compassion
    get bound up, backed up, built up
    until they bulge and explode.

    She hates cleaning up those messes.
    She writes again, deal with your shit.

    Then thinking, when she has had a movement,
    washed and come clean, she might be
    open to spend time exploring

    what other precious treasures
    that basement might be storing.

    She closes the journal
    pulling her knees up to her chest.
    She dares not write or think the rest.

    Submitted on 2005-12-25 16:04:50     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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