Ode to the Slut and Whore

A poem by Miss Misery Gloom

There is a type of person I really, really hate

One for which my hatred will never abate

And this type of person, which I do so abhor,

Is, my dear reader, the slut and the whore.

What they do

Is not much.

They’ll spread their legs

Or some cock they’ll munch.

Why they do this, no one knows

They sure can’t tell us on their own.

It could stem from insecurities

Or an act of rebellion; a lack of maturities.

Either way I think it’s sad

How they are slave to their gonads

And that they believe the only things they have of merit

Are their vagina and their tits.

Even if this is not true

These are the things they give the most due

These simple things that all women possess

And by doing this they’ve created quite a mess.

You see, a lot of these women think porn is empowering

A thought that leaves me ruffled and glowering

For a better example of stupidity I have yet to witness

This kind of brainlessness deserves no forgiveness.

Their reasoning is that it’s empowering because they choose to act

However, this is not even remotely fact.

What is empowering is not the choosing itself

It is the choice you make; what you choose to do with yourself.

And there is nothing at all empowering-I can tell you-

About being an object and doing things any woman can do.

This undermines everything women fought for

Instead of being forced they now choose to whore.

If a black person chose to become a slave

People would be affronted and all kinds of enraged.

But on this particular subject, no one objects.

And why? Because it has to do with sex.

Because sex, you see,

(Ironically)

Is the thing in this world that has no bounds,

Meaning whatever you do, they will not impound.

So that leaves I,

And I alone,

To take such stupidity

And smash it home.

On this, with me, no one complies

No one will even try to see eye-to-eye.

Or at least, that is how it now appears.

You may tell me I am jealous and insecure

However, that is false; for why would I be envious

That you partake in heaps of coitus?

Still don’t believe? Then I’ll keep on blathering

And before I take my leave tell you one last thing:

There is something of which I am most proud

The things I create that make me stand out in a crowd

The thing of which you’ll find no other kind,

The thing by which I value myself,

That thing, dear reader, is

My Mind.