There’s no rhyme present (well, very little), not a lot of reason, just a dose or two of judgment and desperately and deliberately little adherence to the formal laws of grammar with some of the scribblings below running four lines, others two, a few just a solitary jotting. You have been warned.
When the Low Holy Days run 365/366
perdition is seen as providential
Only select humans are anointed essential
in our ravenous reluctance for honesty
Most males, yeah, they shrew up quite well
haughtily debating Newton’s Law as civil/criminal
oozing unearned hubris and privilege alabaster
suffocating the breathing of their Greek choruses
The pre-eminent perjurers throughout the land
masterfully send out others to make their stands
while idea philanthropists being a dime a baker’s dozen
are in need of hefty brain floss or a stout fumigation
It’s certain that nobody knows and even less care
maybe it all boils down to Polly just wanting an ester
Denominations continue to bring in the sheaves sheep
even though there ain’t no meat in loaves and fishes
Can impregnable wombs produce ingrown babies?
So tell me, are you hither or are you yon?
Card-carrying members of the calloused hoi polloi
snarl “sundown town, well, don’t that eclipse all”
They offer up 40 acres and a kick-shitting mule
alongside cardiac arrests performed on all deemed less
“Flowers For Algernon” gets re-titled “Who Moved My Cheese?”
as the fine print in reading comes with it own responsibilities
