Monday, June 6, 2016

Because I Wonder What Brock Allen Turner's Dad Would Have Said if His Son Had Eaten Human Flesh for a Mere 20 Minutes

Cannibal Culture

He was hungry
So he ate her
Hey, you know
Boys will be
She said, “No.”
But it was only
One time
She should’ve
Done more to
Fight back
Her hands
Weren’t tied
She said, “No.”
But, she really
Meant, “Yes.”
Plus, it was after
He had already
Rooted his teeth
She left the house
Half dressed
What did she
Expect to happen
With the meatiest
Parts of her body
These cattle
They ought to
Know better
These hens
Never seem
To learn their
You know
These girls
Can’t make up
Their minds
You know
These girls
Can’t manage
Their wants
You know
These men
Have needs
You can’t
Hold his hand
And refuse to
Feed him
You can’t
Have culinary
And then act
All shy
When he
Expects a feast
You went back
To his apartment
What did you think
Would happen?
You sat comfortably
At a set table
You willingly
Went into his kitchen

He was hungry
So he gorged himself
On her fat
Disemboweled her
Consumed contents
Of open cavity
Cupped hands
In shallow pool
Of pulsing wound
Drank until no more thirst
Chewed through muscle
Gnawed on tendons
Until incisors accosted
He video taped it
He took pictures of her
He told his friends
And they told him
That they had
Tasted human
Ex-girl friends
Gone missing
Neighbors and strangers
A pile of rotting remains
Who’s names
They barely remember
They were hungry
So they fed themselves
Hey, you know
Boys will be
Hey, you know
These whores
Cannot be built
Into housewives
You’d better
Burn down the building
And start from
The beginning
You know these
Women weren’t
Raised right
These single mothers
Don’t parent properly
You know these
Young girls
Are bold nowadays
You’ve seen these
10 year olds
Who look 18
How’s he supposed
To know
Who to bite
And who to keep his
Mouth away from
It’s impossible
You’re illogical
Stop being unreasonable
The Bible has you
Like you don’t want
To have your flesh
Torn from your bones
The Qu’ran has you
There’s something
With becoming
Remnants of meat
A man will pick
From between
His teeth
You think
You’re too good
To be consumed
You are stupid
To assume
A man will
Control his urges
It’s your
To keep him
It’s your job
To convince him
You deserve
To keep your skin
Stay sober
In the company
Of male acquaintances
Stay out of the cars
Of men you know
Cover yourself
When you
Are the subject
Of his gaze
Stay out
Of bars
And alleyways
Don’t invite him
Over after the
Neighbors have
Lowered their blinds
Don’t travel
Where there is
No one to watch out
For you
You don’t know
What to do
In these situations
In this big, beasting
In these forests
Little Red,
He will rip the hood
From your head
And your scalp
From your skull
Right along with it
These women
Need to learn
Not to be a tease
Not be loose
Not to be bitches
Not to be rude,
Keep your pretty little
You’d better
When he advances
When he compliments
When he whistles
When he howls
Don’t provoke him
He was born hungry
You know,
Boys will be greedy

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