The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

DOW-DOW DOW-DOW DOW-DOW DOW DOW—DOW AS YOU SEE THERE’S NOBODY AROUND

«That’s right: I neglected to wash my mitts this time—

That’s right: I neglected to wash my mi—

—glected to wash—»

You’ve already played that tape, Jacob;

maybe it’s time you bought a new plush

—1 without stuffing sputtering out o’ its stomach.

I’m not here to clip your wing;

I only want to refine them.

You truly won’t miss the smiling lemon sucker once it’s gone;

its cream has already soured. Can’t you sing?

Who said that?

Your wackiness is back with a scratch, I see…

won’t leave the fresh wound for the salty sea.

Well, it won’t be so fresh for much longer…

when constructing castles will seem like such a laugh,

when all o’ the air’s been popped from the volleyball

by fireflies demanding tedious shells

& a fear for malignant crabs.

So shatter all o’ those records, daddy-O;

you won’t need them where we’ll go.

What’s that?

Ha, why not sell them & make yourself a wise profit?

That’s dangerous suspicions, person:

if you worsen, you’ll only worsen.

«’Cause life’s a beach,

& then you dry;

that’s why we sink lines,

’cause you ne’er know when a fish’ll bite.»

Posted in Poetry