Author’s Note: Hello. Seeing as it is LGBT History Month, I thought I should, as a regular Sprouter, support the LGBT community. This is what I came up with. Warning: it’s rather a long rant in verse.
Some people are under the assumption
That heterosexuality serves a vital function.
And while it’s true that they do procreate at a rate,
Which maintains and sustains the human race.
These people are under the impression
That homosexuality prevents the progression.
Of people or steeples, they think in the blink
Of an eye we’d all die if a boy prefers Troy,
While a girl prefers Shirl!
The conclusion that these people come to,
Is that homosexuality will lead us all to our doom.
But the statistical chance of a boy liking dance,
Or a girl liking pants is so low (it will come as a blow
To those who propose we use this excuse to deliver abuse),
That the possibility of fertility losing its place in our race,
Nonetheless, these people possess
An eternal need to express their distress,
Their constant desire to oppress.
They think that homosexuals
Will acquiesce to this request.
How wrong they are!
For you see, liking Glee as guy,
Or liking short curls as a girl,
Isn’t something you decide,
Why would you divide yourself
From everyone else?
Do these people believe
That some men all convened
And began to discuss
How they could cause a fuss,
By pretending to play
The part of a gay
Who would sleep with a man
In a dastardly plan
To cause utter confusion?
And then the inclusion
Of women as well,
Who’d cause absolute hell,
By refusing to procreate
Like a woman who’s straight?
Are these people f****** mad?
Or are they just sad, or genuinely bad?
And I’m sorry I’m ranting,
You’ll have to forgive me.
But see, this dark topic has lingered,
Around my poor fingers
For what seems like ages.
And so I write pages
Of nonsensical rhyme,
Assuming you have time
To sit down and read
About these peoples need
To attack without reason
Gays through all seasons.
The simple yet for some reason longwinded point of this poem is this
Though the clothes they choose
May perpetuate odd views,
And the fact that their hands
Are just a little too tanned,
They’re people like you
And they’re people like me
And I do not see
Why we all cannot be
(as clichéd as it may sound)