Breeders

You throw your seeds around as if extinction is on your heals.You stand with your chest out proud of notches in your belt “playa” woman “slaya” Ignoring the silent screams of fatherless children-abandoned generations. Ignoring the silent screams of-between those thighs “What’s my name”-Son please. Your DNA is so precious-See…Created in Gods image designed to be more than just an athletic acrobat in the room-Son. Cause your seed like any seed was designed to be planted in one garden. Sacred is the womb-nuture that wom—-man. As she is the gateway to this earth. Bringing forth son’s and daughter’s in need of Father’s.

Written By LaQuita S. Thurman  5 October 2012

 

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