SatireA Poem by mildly biased
Satire is a blight upon society, and herein I set forward my own modest proposal.
Whence came such a foul and hapless notion
First into man’s blind, capricious fancy?
Don’t read on, if you’d oppose this motion
To lay to rest that grievous flippancy
Of Satire, and its heinous perusal
(‘Tis of thee I speak, Jon Swift and sir Pope!)
Of raped hair locks and modest proposals.
But alas! I fear there can be no hope
For logic, sense, or sound-minded reason
When, bewildered, we wonder of council:
“Spoke they folly? Or some mild treason?”
Pity the poor wretch who can never fill
The hole in his heart left gaping and torn
With aught but his wit, his ire and scorn.
© 2010 mildly biased
Added on September 20, 2010
Last Updated on October 28, 2010
AboutMy passion is the art of crafting a story. I revel in the creation of characters with joys, sorrows, histories, and essence all their own, weaving plots that question and inspire, and exploring the de.. more..
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