You are one, who does ire,
And I wonder what I should do,
Pray that you join the ranks of the few?
For there are times when I wish
To bash your skull in with an iron dish,
And just to add flavor to assault
Pour sizzling sauce with a pinch of salt
Yet it is with fervor I pray
That it be but in the Life of Tom and Jerry a day,
For all the harm I heap on you,
It must be something that I can undo,
For in the next episode
You might be a comrade in arms,
Or better yet, using me to supplement your dubious charms,
When smitten by a sexy kittens’ alluring hip sway,
Especially when she doesn’t give you the time of the day.
Just look at me now, a poet of self proclaimed genius,
A load of gibberish unwittingly I spew,
Borrowing half a page from Charles’ book,
Not quite literary, but nonsense I assure you,
And those of you with Wittgenstein’s sense of discernment,
Would notice it’s nonsense, not meaningless I deign
Our association, for the sheer absurdity of it
Begs for reason, meaning, the work of a twisted divine wit!
There you go now, corrupting my intellectual integrity,
Having me seek hope from a psychotic, twisted divine entity,
Or maybe these profanities that I holler,
Are but a relative response to your unmitigated choler,
And there, as I wrap my head around my spurious angst,
I recognize a once in a lifetime chance,
To have Satre turning in his grave as I ludicrously expound,
That in “us” both being and nothingness be found!
As I now feel an ebb in the flow,
Though acknowledging my catharsis and the resulting afterglow,
Making a final dig, wouldn’t be amiss,
For my soul mired in ire, demands an encore!
Thou pigeon headed snake balled incorrigible lout,
Thou have me dead locked and I have thy neck in a vice,
Foolish I know, for from here where do we go?
Yet, surprised I wouldn’t be,
If this buffoonery tickles thee,
And thou stand in the wings, drowning in mirth,
Witnessing this spectacle of appalling girth!
Having massacred many a great people today,
I’m now ready to call it a day,
Just letting you know what buys you time,
Is that I love you at least half of the time!
A Final word, to you, the ones still reading this,
I salute your patience with a bow and a kiss,
And if the haloed chambers housing your brain,
Are echoing with a refrain of “What the F**K!”,
My self-proclaimed genius I must reclaim,
For this transference of a poet’s feelings,
wins much literary acclaim!
Much Thanks and deep apologies; Charles, Ludwig, Jean-Paul and William. It goes to say that random association and verbal diarrhoea combined with a bad case of Ire and a vague skill with words makes for some definitely "WTF!" reading.
Dedicated to my Albatross who inspires this madness. I Pity you for what I must inspire in you. Maybe that's what keeps us together.