A Sneer From a Fool is High Praise

This squawking house of bleeding lunatics

has got him by the throat again.

Somewhere in the passage of his time

he arrived at a sane place,

so to speak.

It took a while to realize

that this was an asylum with no guards

and the doctors were all sucking their thumbs

drooling with anticipation for the new idea

the inmates kept the door ajar

so you could come in

there were no keys no passwords.

Know it alls and presbyterians

held forth with streams of balderdash

pinched little shits plotted the days defeats

and clowns with no makeup cried in the mirror.

Scores of mottled children kept score

with their notebooks and recorders

serious peasants sat in their cars

and opinionated to their phones

there was noisy confusion

and self righteous concern.

He looked up at the moon

and blamed it all on that ghostly orb

he searched the world for a rock to climb under

but they were all taken.

Blabbermouths with bad breath said

you know after every third word

and the poisoned pen of the world weary critics

slashed the throat of the hopeful masses.

He witnessed all this and more

a captive to this art house surreal play.

He had no choice as far as he could see

so he bought another ticket

and walked through the open door.

 

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