Freudian Slips For A Man In Power Who Tends To Give Me The Slip Poem by Gayathri Seetharam

Freudian Slips for a man in power who tends to give me the slip
-Gayathri B. Seetharam
Do you know the catch with the word, triumvirate,
It refers to three men in power
And God is sexist in the fact
That the three powers who are the
Gods of Intellect, War and Darkness
Are all men according to Greek civilization;

How do I know this?
It is because and this sounds like a tall tale
He came in my dreams and told me so
And he is also racist for the God of Darkness, surprise, surprise, is dark skinned;

But there is much to be said about English literature
For they glorify tall, dark, handsome men
Surely, you do me an injustice, stalwarts of English literature,
For the English rose is fair haired and fair skinned
And it is not a cause for woe anymore
But was a sore point with me for a long time
That they glorify really slim women;

I take much joy now in the presence of my ample bosom and curvaceous hips
Unless I am in a vulnerable mood and see the Gold medallist wonder, Tessa Virtue,
Being sensually poised in a lambada position by her Gold medallist wonder of a partner, Scott Muir,
And feel that I am a teensy weensy more than cutely plump;

I cannot help feeling that I would weigh a ton
And I had probably dampened my dear husband's ardour
When he had cradled me in his arms
And I had with my occasional direct way of speaking
Said that I was probably a package to carry
And he should gently lay me on the bed
And make passionate love to me;

At this point, it seems to me
That I cannot shut out the voices in my head
My own thoughts which are clamouring to be read
And I shall choose the existence of the psyche in the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite or Venus,
And in the same breath, the existence of love in Psyche, the Goddess of Soul and Mind;

Both would appeal to Eros, who in Canada,
Is the moose with the horns
Who would in turn, find both a bit tame for his wild spirit
And will instead make love to a beautiful beaver
If his female compatriot allowed it
And the male beaver, God bless his hardworking soul,
Had a glass of Iceberg vodka and lime
With the male polar bear
And ended up listening to the Gray Jay sing
While serving beavertails with warm maple syrup.