Friday, April 2, 2010

A Little Poem

by S.P.

I said to Dr. W— last night,
“I’ve got severe thrombosis,
and anti-clotting pills won’t work —
What is your diagnosis?”

“What’s caused the gore to clog your veins
is upper-class derision;
Just shed a pint or two: you’ll end
society’s division.”

“But Dr. W—!” I cried in pain,
My stomach won’t stop aching!
My stools are tough as cinder blocks!
What pills should I be taking?”

“You can’t digest the biased media’s
Brown-nosing the state,
But if your turds have hardened thus,
Throw them at someone’s gate.”

“I thought I saw a million proles
in some hallucination
Being whipped to death by savage troops —
What’s the right medication?”

“Don’t worry.  Trust your inner eye:
Be not by truth enticed:
As I was saying to Napoleon,
‘Hi, I’m Jesus Christ.’”

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