Who Am I To Judge?

I write from my center
Where hopefully creativity is found
Preferring silence's grip
When there is no other around

Sometimes what I write is naughty
On some occasions even mean
Touches on topics not spoken
Deemed taboo or not to be seem

I write about an injustice
Maybe handed down in time
That history's books have glossed over
Wanting to erase from the mind

Take to keyboard sometimes in lust
Focused on the opposite sex
My words might be messy
Not even sure what will come out next

From time to time I might be funny
Untended as a goal
The constant is my words
Are coming from the soul

So you don't need to attack me
If those words aren't your cup of tea
For words come from thoughts
They are connected don't you see?

We go down a dangerous slope
When we appoint ourselves to judge
What is and isn't art
Instead try a polite nudge

And if you truly dislike
You are free not to read
Won't catch me being a censor
So much an anathema to my creed