Young Son Virile Boy
Humps his way through the underbrush
Eats out every night
Comes home for dinner
Head grows into the crown
Granddad Limp Limb
Back in the cave
Waits for ointment and
His good bitch to come back
to town for pussy and heartburn
Where’d all the good ones get to?
Loin cloth at the dry cleaner’s
Drags dick and briefcase down the jagged path home
I asked myself what would Nature look like if it were a god instead of a goddess. I thought particularly of the Wiccan Horned God. I realize this paints a rather dim picture, but the possible corruption of gods is something with which I am deeply fascinated.