Friends, Relatives—Fare Well!
Fare well, stay safe, take care, / my friends, goodbye—
I would shed tears, / but real men never cry!
Memory remember / what soon shall unfold,
More nonsense published, / as God once foretold—
Crude old reversals, / new verse impending,
Dullness the product, / Grub Street unending!
Too late for judgment, / for goodness or ill,
Slap down your paper, / make sharp your old quill!
Write the truth boldly, / or quick cut and run,
There’s never some news / new under the sun—
Courage, for counsel, / for Prudence won’t tell!
Ask Lester, ask Norah, / what’s that foul smell?
Odor of sanctity, / certainly not—
Everyone’s smoking / a fresh batch of pot!
Everyone knows our / evil mass shooter,
Everyone watches / young brazen looter—
Our culture bought / the whole hog with the farm;
Each soul demands / a big loaded firearm!
No elephant sits / in this drafty room,
Liken it not to / an Egyptian tomb!
Just a warm body, / face down in the street,
[Look at him, stranger, / fresh blood by his feet!]
Hit by a yellow car, / shot in the head—
What does it matter to him? / Dead is dead!
Few people read—nowadays—Forbidden!
Maybe the Truth / is that which is hidden?
Truth is whatever / I say it is now:
In that red pasture, / stands a large green cow,
Thinking of Christmas, / bright angels and snow!
Truth must be relative, / yes? maybe no?
The good, humble hart / dreams of fresh water,
Which cascading falls / on all antique strands—
Hunter approaches, / mind bent on slaughter!
The eager, brave hart / quenches its thirsting,
Expiring at last, / noble heart bursting,
As the real Hunter / reads out parish banns.
les
