Missionary (Position) Abortion Poem by Seth Proch

I want for nothing,
Please kill me Father time,
I sing the songs of speechlessness,
Please rend my throat from it's home,
I bathe in the everflowing tears,
Drown me in the nectar of despair,
Apocalypse is bleeding quietly,
A gaping hole where once was love,
She cries her red tears down your thighs,
The spiralling tower bends beneath her,
Children stare blankly through metal screens,
Puncture wounds from aborted missionaries.

They came, bringing with them gospels,
They came, bringing disease,
They came, those missionaries of love,
They came, but were unwanted.

Foul mouthed lovers of doctrine,
Ragged broken people yet unborn,
Dripping down the corridor,
Breaking through the barrier,
Making a newborn to die,
Taking love and giving death.

Sept.15,2007