Born sick

“What do you think of homosexuals?”

The question I encountered in recent times.

Some uphold “Homophiles were born sick”.
Some uphold “Those people do not deserve to live”.
Where do I figure in this?
How do I think of “those people’s” existence?
Should I consider them
or see them like inferior beings?
How I perceive someone’s essence counts.
Homophiles should look forth for us to decide their future.
Homophiles should not progress
Before us deciding how to go on with their lives.
For this is so eminent
This is wherefore I’ve not been questioned
For solutions to solve the problem of hunger in the world
This is wherefore I’ve not been required
To provide methods to reduce the C footprint.
Oh Indeed It is correct!
So, who is sick…. who is sicker?
Who is the error of conception… Who is being God?
We’ve been concerned for centuries on issues
Which do not need to be blown out of proportion.
We’ve sold our souls to institutions promoting brotherhood
But instructing us to reject the ones in some degree different.
I would prefer to be questioned on the cummingtonite molecule
Or even nothing.
Therefore, in response to the first question I serve “No”.

Ps: If your main goal was to find out what I think of gays
I can affirm that you did not find out that this wording right up
Is a lipogram in both ‘a’ and ‘y’ and this post-script
A lipogram in ‘e’.


I am (????)


I live in Australia, in Iceland,
in the most isolated area of Papua
and also in synagogues every week end.
I was born in a world of darkness,
formed in darkness; cause of darkness.
Light is easily misused, even by those who love me.
I draw my strength in their love,
and give a meaning to their miserable lives.
Basing their lives on me. Justifying their lives due to me.
I am no one to take the blame.
Yet they do this to give me a name.
What has happened to humanity?
Why is the world so in need of my existence?
Is it possible to be so misunderstood?
Their plane is free falling but all they see is freedom.
I reached the overweight,
but they keep feeding me with extraordinary stories.
Some people attempt on my life, but they see theirs being taken.
I am real because I am man-made,
but I am imagination because I live in their head.
And before human kind gets rid of me, and embrace true compassion,
They will kill each other for me, yet I am no one to take the blame.