Notorious Nattering Nabobs of Negativism
(And Other Hopeless, Hysterical Hypochondriacs of History)
They pretend to love freedom but hate non-white votes
and poor's access to health care (both cost far too much
when supported by taxes where all pay debts owed.)
Wealth buys doctors' deferments when war gets announced
if dough's children might suffer (fake ailments vouchsafed
to excuse them from serving). Most hide wealth with glee
(for God loves that rich cheat!) No taxation is fair!
Just depraved think that wealth's butt's gang-raped by the rich?
Might a saint dream elites love to row their black boats?
Where does cripple complain Chris (1) 'discovered' his crutch?
Hmm! How likely is that? Who knows hole from commode?
Watch world slip off its rails as Christ's Love gets denounced,
brown kids stripped from their parents as mercy gets strafed,
our democracy burns, Trump lights farts from golf tee,
his card boasts he's ahead, but the game's truth or dare.
As each whore takes her bra off, pimps see who's the b*tch!
Long Tooth
October 23rd in 2020
Poet's Notes:
(1) Christopher Columbus
Categories:
hypochondriacs, humor, political,
Form: Rhyme
We take our health for granted
(Hypochondriacs aside)
Until good fortune and
The unavoidable collide.
For something’s bound to happen;
If it misses us in youth,
Then age will slow us down
So we can’t fight it – that’s the truth.
And when infirmity descends,
It hates to let us go.
It’s possible to conquer it,
But progress might be slow.
We can’t appreciate our health
When we are feeling fine,
Yet no one likes to contemplate
What’s waiting down the line.
Categories:
hypochondriacs, health,
Form: Rhyme
Living death ,hotel for hypochondriacs?
Where there are rarely empty beds
But some bodies may soon be.
Bright curtains are there for all
To screen their shame and pain,
Though the final curtain will surely
On some soon fall..
Blue-jacketed staff breezily
Glide about their tasks
Smoothly and swiftly
Until becalmed by a lull
At the nursing station
Before a maelstrom erupts.
Suddenly a sour smell wrinkles noses
And the team sweeps into action.
Soothing and rancourless,
"You're a terrible man!"we hear them say
As they set about erasing
The evidence of soiled humanity.
Yet we see their neurosis
Over death-defiling bugs
In the continued wiping
Of bed rails and curtains of grime
And then there is peace
In our time.
There will be other flurries,
Punctuating regular routine
But, respite gained,they relax.
A question about the time ,
Is met with,"Ten past s***e!"
Cathartic laughter refreshes
Them for the long ,long night .
Categories:
hypochondriacs, dedication,
Form: Free verse