there should really be
some kind of
penis purgatory
for the expiation
of this appalling appendage
and its plethora
of perpetual perpetrations
imposing an impotence
permanent
for its presumed
omnipotence
propelled by a petulance
spurred by its misapprehension
of perceived deprivations
and supplantation
of its deepest paranoia
pending inconsequence
and subsequent need
for incessant placation
from people abound
i submit
that penis is synonymous
with the id of male ego
from pliable pink-tipped inadequacy
to piercing impale of pleasantries forgone
poking
and prodding
sans any apology
haplessly trodding
on that which it pleases
for self-validation
of urges capricious
a paragon
of base instant gratification
to which true compassion
opposes emphatically
no more pitching of tents
no more focal points fixed on dubious bulges
no more pencils in pockets
no more untoward questions
as to whether or not
they’re just happy to see us
no more furtive pocket pool
people can see what you’re doing there
unimpressed
and worse, terrified
no conquest-driven instantaneous detachment
metaphorically speaking
but don’t you dare think
that i won’t just detach it
no more of this daunting affront to humanity
“flaunting” the threat of barbarian legacy
no more judging scant leaflets
by filigreed covers
true power is only attained
through self-discipline
nothing is gained through tyranny
save for misery
only the weakest
feel compelled to subjugate
please cover that hideous thing up already
the neighbors will think you a despot irrelevant
vying for dominance
pitifully plying for lauding opinions
from cowed Stockholm audiences fast seeking exit
look, we all get it
you need to be worshipped
just try to remember
that nobody gives a shit
take your sexist expectations
home to your bed
ruminate long and hard
until this truth gets through to your heads
Max, or Not 