Without Logic

Indian Ma, oil painting 1992,
artist information at bhawana.gather.com

The logic of babies is lost upon man,

Who never had one grow in his belly,

Who was never ripped apart to bring her to this world,

Nor bared a breast to supply her with life.

What is more natural than to cry out,

when your belly aches for food?

To send out a call when the warmth goes away,

When you are left in the dark without touch?

It’s man who lives illogically,

He sits in the excrement of his words,

Caked upon the cavernous floors of

Backstabbing power and blood-stained wealth.

In a few short years she has learned to wiggle and walk,

To giggle and talk making men gush with delight.

Whatever she needs, they do with a smile,

Whatever she does, they lavish their praise.

Who is without the logic indeed?

If only they made diapers

For the bullshit born of men.