Mother,
If you get angry,
please don't shake your lap.
The mountains crumble,
and I find myself buried in debris.
~
Mother,
If you cry,
your tears flood my mood.
The tide sweeps away my adobe,
my family, my life as I knew.
~
Mother,
In the autumn morning,
when I wake up to see
a tiny dew drop
glittering on the bermuda grass.
I can feel you love me,
you will protect me,
you will provide for my pleasure.
-----
(But) Mother,
I have had enough of your breast milk!
I am drilling down your skin,
to suck your blood.
I am now blood-thirsty.
~
Even though I came out of your naked vagina.
Now, my origin is my shame.
I was born out of infection.
~
let me lay down concrete upon your skin.
Allow me to cover up
those left over little green patches of shame.
~
Mother,
Under the shadow of your womanhood,
resting on your comfortable lap,
I have nurtured patriarchy,
You are my Gertrude,
I am your Prince Hamlet.
-----
The pride of our civilization,
that we have build
on your lap Mother,
is the reflection of humanity's lust for you.
Jocasta, my love!
In the twenty first century,
my repressed sexual desire for you
is empowered with technology.