Petulance And The Discovery Channel (A Bowdlerized Rant) Poem by Gary Witt

Yes I heard you, Mar-far most dim;
I have marked your solipsistic rage,
And watched your special on cable.
You intrude upon my consciousness
Now like an insistent fly at a diner.

So let us talk, or to be precise,
Pretend now to listen,
Impatient for a chance
To interrupt my words
As they bounce harmlessly
Off your frontal lobe.

Life has become more coarse
Because of you, malodorous Mar-far.
Refinement has fled you
Like a chary child from a wasp—
And as she ran from you,
You chased her away from all of us.

I see the frothy
Orange and aubergine
Aura of ignorance
That emanates from
Your gaping mouth and
Vacuous eyes,
Back-lit and dilated.
I see how it clings,
O Mar-far most...marfar,
Cloudlike and colorful,
Glowing in the rafters
Of cool’s dank belfry
And from underneath hip’s
Vacant, cock-eyed baseball cap.
I see how far, how fast,
Refinement flies from this.

Without reprieve
From this cloud you carry
(Redolent of Drano
Cooked with Sudafed) ,
Refinement
Shuns the very daylight now,
Cowers watching
Your waistband sink,
Weighed down
By the small-caliber glitter
Of nickel-chrome
And mother of pearl
Bling
That substitutes
For male enhancement
And tugs on lazy plaid folds
Of boxer shorts on parade.

Refinement squirms nervously
At your hollow demand for respect,
And hording refusal to bestow it.

You may kill me now,
Stock-chucking Mar-far;
If you can, if you dare,
If your thirty-two will reach this far.
For I will no longer yield.

Before you arrived I drank deeply of Life,
And wooed Refinement with courtly hope.
But now I smell your stench
Leeching into the ground,
Now I see your urine
Clouding the pool,
And I want no more of this.
You may kill me if you dare.
I will abide no more.