A poem with a bitter aftertaste |
I am wonderful, popular and loveable with it I am brilliant at everything I do But make sure you tell me again and again Or I might just get angry with you [i]Oh Mistress so brilliant, Let me lay at your feet Let me praise you and worship your talent For we are not worthy Of someone so swarthy So clever and witty and gallant [/i] You can tell me you love me As much as you like I can use all the praise I can get For I am the best at whatever I do But I need to be told more yet [i]Oh wonderful poetess You are truly the best The rest are but pale imitations Your words are not rivaled By Byron nor Keats You show up their limitations Let me lick at your feet Let me suck at your soul Let me fawn over all you survey For I know your worth as I know your soul and I relish the stench of decay [/i] Oh flatter me more my lapdog please I deserve all the praise I can get Applaud me and stroke some warmth into bones That have little of honesty left For I am alone with no talent at all And all I can do is rave So flatter me please, give my ego the boost Drip the honey of which I so crave [i]I will praise the afflictions You sling at the world I shall stoke up the fires of descent I shall spread your disease Across all seven seas And belittle all those who are decent For I don’t have the brain to think for myself I don’t have much of a life Your lavatory wit makes me quiver and shake You charm me with all of your shit You can stroke me too because I am you I haven’t the wit to be pleasant And when you have done we shall Look in the glass and see if we still have reflections.[/i] |