Poetry Archives

Confound all aberrations which
          Make men do foolish things,
Like buying bracelets for a bitch,
          Or witless wedding rings.
As if we had not woe enough
          Our simple souls to vex,
Without that brand of trouble stuff
                    We label Sex.

Has science not the means produced
          For human propagation,
By artificially induced
          Insemination?
Then every man might be a priest,
          And every maid a nun . . .
Oh well, as chaste as they at least,—
                    But nix on fun.

Just think how we would grow in grace
          If lust we could exclude;
Then innocence might take its place,
         —Well, in a sense it could.
How we would be forever free
          From passions that perplex!
What peace on earth if only we
                    Could outlaw Sex!