The New Rosa Cherokee Cronum & The Old Titan Arum Maryum

 

Does my intensely beautiful smell make you small and weak?

How does my brilliant foliage beget your too many insecurities?

Do I not bloom appropriately in the way of femininity you seek?

Am I relegated to your false conditions of friendliness, ununique?

Do I demean your pathetic sensitivities, oh poor shrinking violet?

Are your frail feelings injured by my strong feminine fragrance?

Does my ability to convey ideas make your flimsy stalk droop?

Will nature consume the dark dank interior that you must deny?

 

You are sad that your showy frizzy red fizzles flat and dull

Petals madly unsettled over sad barren and vacuous eyes

Your flower does not peak in my class or even my kingdom

One so isolated from true family cannot reach fecund prime

Casted forever into a classification of those without spines

The need to hurl your foul stench outward consumes you wholly

Unseen sharp thorns deep in the backs of those who know you

Another reason you cannot be accepted into the high genus fully

 

Your alleles are weak casting odorous disease and washed up color

Your very presence in the Kingdom a hideous mark against us all

Oh, if you only could have been a new hybrid budding breed

But alas you chose the old guard X and Y rejecting sisters’ creed

While choking hardily on the spadix swallowing their didactic lies

Now a dried up sow you seek to respirate foul hate upon the fruitful

Beauties of our kingdom all around, your wilt increases by pounds

As sisters’ bloom large in your presence it must be forever painful

 

But do not fret heirloom for natural selection comes to take you soon.

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