A #BadPoem Only for Dedicated Fans

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Let the monsters in your soul 

Taste wine instead of blood.  

For breakfast, serve a jelly roll; 

Protect their toes from mud. 

Dress them up in khaki suits, 

Curate their TV stations,  

Offer friends of good repute 

And aimless, mild flirtations.  

Otherwise, those toothy guys  

Will rend and chew and stuff  

Their bellies till they’re supersize  

And Soylent Green is us,  

Thereafter form societies 

Based on most base behavior,  

Establish wicked pieties,   

A nihilistic savior.    

C. Achebe and Bill Yeats  

Were right: Things fall apart, 

Like other writers, some first-rate, 

Saw darkness at the heart. 

When Edgar, known for “nevermore,”  

Laid low that house once great –    

Well, duh! That was a metaphor  

For everybody’s fate.  

Life’s not fair. Are you surprised?  

The bad guys win, or chaos. 

I say fight truth with kindly lies.  

Give them the chance to save us  

Study Aesop, Sandra B.,  

Not Tarantino, Capra! 

Skip the blood-soaked Odyssey 

And asp-bit Cleopatra. 

Like myst’ries? Read that Christie dame.  

For spy tales, Fleming, Ian.  

George Smiley may deserve his fame,  

But stick with oh-oh-seven.   

Because M. Sendak wasn’t wrong 

To bring home Max, that sinner, 

The charm of majesty less strong 

A lure than Mom’s hot dinner.  

(And while we’re on forgiveness,  

Think on misconstrued McGregor,  

Combatting lagomorphic threats  

To carrots, peas and taters.) 

Since life may end in hemlock  

With no promise of hereafter,  

Re-read an Archie comic book;  

The Princess Bride’s forever.  

Appease the monsters in your soul  

Who guzzle wine with blood, 

Want bacon with that jelly roll.  

Their toes delight in mud.