(Poem 30 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
No governing body can rule our spirits once
we have had an out-of-body experience
transporting us to realms of celestial bodies
that remind us we are more than mortal bodies
or just a warm body being body-shamed
and selling our bodies for survival.
The beauty of truth is that we have no
body double, nobody exactly like us;
even clones are their own, nor do we
deserve to be treated as such – no matter
what they claim they caught on their
body cams while hollowing out our
body cavities because of our
body odor…body piercings…frequency of
body shots…over our dead bodies.
We must refuse to do perpetual body checks
and shrink ourselves with body wraps
cranking the heat on our body temperature
to make ourselves smaller, then body slamming
ourselves for lack of perfect beach bodies,
our inner mafiosos dropping bodies out of the
body of a plane as punishment for our size,
while pretending to have body positivity.
Our body of work grows in proportion
to our body of knowledge like a vast
body of water when we finally
forget to pay attention to the
body of opinion of the masses aiming
their frigid body language toward any
body politic who chooses their
heavenly body over body building.
When we love, body and soul,
without a jealous bone in our bodies
and believe in the wisdom of others
akin to fruiting bodies, contrary to the
body of evidence doubters spout
claiming body mass index a god…
body snatchers will try to rack up
body counts, forcing people into body bags
with body blows because they are afraid of
somebody, anybody, and everybody who are
bodyguards of our own fate, more concerned with
body heat from bodysurfing galaxies than what
bodies without souls think of our body rolls.
@Home Studio – 30th poem of the year
Runner ups for the AI Mystical Big Bodies photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 