Friday, August 15, 2014

Ms. ogynist

Oh Captain, my captain...
how I hated that verse
so bloated and soggy
like an over boiled wurst.

Red stripes of blood
and stars mired in blue

a nation in tatters
in an unearthly hue.

The captain has died,
it's what people do.

In lilacs of spring
after the winter's dread cold
the dooryard has opened
the ewes in the fold,

the cattle are lowing
the poor baby's cold.

Enough is enough.

We tried so hard to follow
the rules, and we worked hard
to follow as fools. We lost
our way to an evil that drools.

The Mother is watching
as the eye of the moon,
the satyr like star
sings an unnerving tune,
don't worry dear precious
I'll not faint nor swoon.

I'll laugh and I'll dance
when the banquet is done,
when that old world rolls over
with the wrought it has won.

A woman's work is never quiet done.

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