All the mumbo jumbo
He said she had no balls
Accusations flying
Stalkers on the crawl
Hypocrisy in motion
Winners one and all
No confusion
Just illusions
Of where we are today
The mystery in history
Time and times again
Like a revolving door
What is
What's not
And what shall be:
Papa, tell your children: don't touch that forbidden tree.
Nourished by his mother
Weaned in meadows sweet
Without spot, or blemish
How succulent is the meat.
-
Author:
Valiantstar (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: September 14th, 2026 08:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Online)
Comments3
Biblical it speaks in child's words but the story is the same. Nicely crafted
What a strange and compelling journey, Valiantstar. Social disorder gives way to biblical warning, then ends with innocence made ready for consumption. The whole piece feels like humanity repeating its oldest betrayal under modern disguises. Excellent write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
There’s a strange, biblical surrealism here, where accusations, hypocrisy, history, illusion, and the forbidden tree all tumble together until the poem starts feeling like a prophecy spoken through static. The final movement into the spotless, succulent meat is wonderfully unsettling—it takes the language of innocence and nourishment and suddenly gives it a darker, almost sacrificial flavor. Powerful work.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.