Ishmael, scorning, searching wanting, leaving always traces of your bittersweet dream shunning tenderness I cry for you.
Large and complex, small man
Can you not see that in breaking the womb
you both embrace and deny life?

Defense for you means celebrating your psychoses your madness heightened by your definition of Blackmen children continues to be a song of passage which perversely denies your obsession with the mind of woman womb.

Killing fields are strewn with bodies whose souls you choose to save via procreation.
Pity the miserable children to be scorned and scorched by the seeds of your love/hate.

Ishmael we love you large. complex, small
blind man.
We are not your enemy.
You are.