For The Love Of The Lens Poem by Leland D'Elormie

I'll be a cold refraction,
The backside of the race,
And turn to show my backside,
When it has turned its face.

I'll offer it no children,
For those same children's sake,
The world's not worth the trouble,
That such a thing would take.

No person can't destroy it,
The magnifying lens,
Perhaps it should be burned up,
This 'homosapiens.'

But we could never kill it,
We'd have to touch it then,
Or look into the pig's eyes,
Of women and their men.

No, we'll just stand reflective,
Our back to all the noise,
Of slandering and feeding,
Of self-indulgent breeding,
The skill-less art of seeding,
The wombs of girls with boys.