Having returned from Home Affairs
and sprayed my office with peanuts
because of the poisonous breakfast
of apricot jam and bacon on toast
I ate along the way (made me hungry)
and not a single criminal was even
kind enough or interested to accost
me – I cannot report one brush with
a criminal element!
Having failed in getting mugged
or killed and in dying of poisonous
foodstuffs I’m back in my office
driving the ox-wagon called my PC,
- almost as slow as the Internet
The only way to find joy in our modern
world is by desiring to enlarge the
male member and since I don’t have one
it is a sad offer - or wishing for an
abortion by a Dr Wonder offering his
services on a lamppost with magic herbs
that will also keep criminals away
But since they won’t even bother me
so I too can have a story to tell
what is the use? – I’d better tackle
the mountain of filing glaring at me,
it is so unnerving to see the drifts
of snow-white stacks of paper covering
the floor since this is really scary,
I take out my Bible again hoping the
warnings of fire and brimstone will
force me to tackle the unholy mess
in my office but maybe I should just
lower my head on to my ox-wagon PC
and die in peace…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem