Buttercups and Sweet Peas Reaped
The Stages Set for Grief
"What you sow, I reap --
after I fuck it over."
-- a grossly obese Grim Reaper
yet of an appetite
Close listen to the tick-tock of thy biologic clock --
Time ill at ease reminding thee to sow a teensy seed
ere withered tubes and ovaries upon your womb come knock
announcing to thy lady parts the chance hath passed to breed!
Imagine thou the Horror on the hearing of such news --
the sudden shock inducing straight thy uterus to faint,
thy labia agape in disbelief to hit the booze,
thine angry vulva cracking up to need a belt restraint!
Plus picture thy vagina frantic in a drastic plea --
soliciting but hosts of holy ghosts to hump it hard,
while off online yet in a funk still on a shopping spree
thy clitty hopped-up on endorphins maxes out its card!
Till last on the acceptance of thy crotch's tragic fate --
that horny old Grim Reaper cancels one more dinner date . . .
a dedication of Respect
the unsolicited Pain of each blossom
nipped in the bud
or withered on the vine
a revolving helios sonnet menippean satire on
the sowing of natalism --
with its cycles grim of endless reapings
march, 2023 -- Death
the braggart and brat
still the accomplishment of parents