Au contraire my sweet laureate of classic poetry
I do not request you kneel before as a King
In that you shun me as but another drunken Knave
As so you do the many loyal rats which inhabit your cave
In the hopes of finding a trite nourishment or an end
To their constant sorrows of such an unhealthy sewer
It was not the likes of me who created this sludge which coats our feet
For my hands while not clean of blood and guts
Are not shamefully guilty of such menial drudgeries
As are the Vultures and birds of prey which lay in wait
Of your next few crumbs of contritely worded appreciation
Shall my Lady allow me to speak that my drool may wash her feet
I would wish not to criticize or hold account of her less than original sins
For though I feel no less compelled to disgorge my thoughts
Or purge my stomach of such vile meat
I'd rather in my own vernacular words....
Never ever eat your Gruel again.....
For your words do not possess the ability
To take the smallest grain of sand and turn it into a bolder
2007 © T Sheridan
Note: One traditional method of treating a ganglion cyst was to strike the lump with a large, heavy book. And since even the poorest households usually possessed a Bible, that was what they used, which is how ganglion cysts came to be nicknamed 'Bible Bumps'
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bible-goes-bump-in-the-night/
