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We Will Not Kill You. We’ll Just Shoot You in the Vagina.

ISSUE:  Summer 2019

It’s true. We’re useless without our vaginas.
How will you rape us? How will we birth daughters
and sons? I understand. We should laugh.
It would be better if we did, Mr. Duterte. 
In India, our leaders say eating chow mein
excites the hormones, which evokes rape. 

And if you can’t prevent it, may as well enjoy it (rape). 
In one of your 120 languages, the word for vagina
is bisong, which sounds like a headlong bird, not chow 
mein which good mothers don’t feed their daughters
for fear of evoking, you know …. Mr. Duterte,
may I call you Rodrigo? We should laugh. 

O’Keeffe did when they said she painted vulvas (laughed).
Her flowers didn’t wear jeans or stay out late. Rape
doesn’t happen to respected ladies. Dirty Duterte, 
#BabaeAko, what do you have against vaginas? 
What about Sara and Veronica, your daughters
& their drama-queen vaginas? What about chow mein? 

Personally, I’m against MSG, FGM & chow mein.
In Hindi, one of India’s 460 languages (I laugh,
not to be competitive, but we’d win), the word for daughter
is beti, do you know how many lost daughters—raped,
unborn, disappeared? One longs for a Venus flytrap vagina
or yoni, the most delectable word for cunt. Duterte

Harry, P-Rod, PDiggy, Digong, Rody, (Duterte)—  
is Viagra Your Excellency’s version of chow mein? 
Who dares call you impotent? You who want vaginas
shot at, you who smooch factory workers, you who laugh
and say as long as there are beautiful girls there will be rape.
There’s always a beautiful beti (daughter). 

Our leaders warn us to keep our daughters 
at home like cars, so they won’t get scratched, Mr. Duterte.
They tell us to call our rapists “brother” while they rape
us and afterward everyone can go out for chow mein
because nobody agrees to do it on the first try. (Laugh)
Mr. President, we have teeth in our rebel vaginas,

and they don’t need chow mein. Our vaginas 
have learned to shoot. They laugh and talk back (rapacious
beasts). Our daughters feed them poems, Mr. Duterte!


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