Perhaps A Fool Poem by Hubert Wilson

Perhaps a W fool is like resting in place.
A rest room shelter from reality.
He exists to give himself comfort.
He is there in his own abnormality.
And in your times of trouble,
When he is most like a drone.
The memory of this fool will bring you to groan!

Perhaps a W fool is like a cracked window.
Perhaps a jammed tissue door.
He invites you to come closer.
You don't want to anymore.
And even if you seem to lose your mind,
And he want you for his bidding to do.
The memory of this fool with show he's through!

Oh, a W fool to some is like a clod.
To some as slippery as a prune peel.
For some a diarrhea misery reliving.
For some a way far from ideal.
And some say a W fool is being stuck,
And some say can't go,
And some say a W fool is just cramping pain,
And some say he ain't nothing about to crow!

Perhaps a W fool is like the sewer.
Full of odor, full of waste.
Like a futile fire of fresh cow chips,
Or betrayal when in him trust is placed.
If a W fool should seem forever to last,
And all my fondest dreams do come true.
By January,2009, this W fool we'll gladly bid adieu -
And flush him with all his pooh!