Oi Mantid of Magnificence
Oi Mantid, thy beauty is to me
As a sweet young Korean child. On a killing spree,
Thou dost confide that ere thou croak
Thou wouldst first kill. The Catholic Pope
Prays with less fervor than dost thou,
When he immortalizes Mary. The Holy Cow
Of Hindus is no less holy and spiritual,
Than Christ himself. A perfect Fool
Only would wager she tastes less tart.
(And probably won't make you want to fart.)
I imagine thee always, as a penitent bug,
Sprawled out like an altar boy on the priest's rug,
Kneeling on the floor, hands clasping. A cock
Crows at dawn, and is as reliable as a clock;
But thou art more reliable when thou pray.
I love thee mantid, but not in a gay kind of way.
To be, or not to be......a ninja!
To be or not to be, a ninja! Is that a question?
Weather is nicer with the beach as buffer
For the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a levy of troubles,
And with Katrina, drown them (the poor). Eat rye, eat wheat—
No more; and by a wheat to say we the grain
Of heart-burn and the thousand natural shocks
That colons are heir to — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be "Pish'd!" The rye, the wheat—
The wheat, perchance the sourdough. Oi, where's the pub?
For if we ferment wheat what dreams may come,
When we have soused ourselves with Daniel's oil,
Might give us menopause. I get no respect!
I give chlamydia to unfaithful wives,
For who would bear the whips and porns of mine,
Or leather thongs, the gay man's costumely,
The pains of wooden clubs, the mantaray,
The insolent beasts that killed Steve Irwin....
Oh man. I've got to go. One of my students just impaled the postman with a naginata!
No! Don't pull it out!
Wait, why am I typing that....
Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings, Greenbridge, Essex
The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay. They rotted. They turned
Around occassionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.