Jon Corelis


The Bird - Poem by Jon Corelis

After Sir Walter Raleigh

Go, poem, since you are free,
and, though you know it’s hopeless,
if you make just one see,
at least there’ll be one dope less
to chant the hymns that praise
the liars of our days.

Tell friendship it’s just greed
to take without returning,
tell love it’s only need
to quench a sexual burning,
and if they doubt your word,
then flip them both The Bird.

Tell managers they care
for nothing but their perks;
tell judges they’re unfair;
tell lawyers that they’re jerks:
when they shall have demurred,
dismiss them with The Bird.

Tell churches that they sing
of god and worship money;
their purpose is to sting
their flocks and keep the honey:
so let them be assured
they won’t escape The Bird.

Tell statesmen they commit
mass murder for their masters,
and never need admit
blame for their disasters:
on them is well conferred
The Order of The Bird.

Tell liberals they’re moony;
conservatives, they’re tools;
call flaming leftists loony,
and right wing ranters, fools:
if they cry, 'No we’re not! ',
The Bird must be their lot.

Say politicians lie
and lie and lie and lie
and lie and lie and lie
and lie and lie and lie.
They don’t like what they’ve heard?
Perhaps they’ll like The Bird.

Tell radical professors
rebellion’s easy, when you’re
among the proud possessors
of insulating tenure.
If they squeal, 'That’s absurd! ',
assign their grade: The Bird.

Tell poets they’re careerist
illiterate poseurs;
tell critics they’re the merest
flotsam on auteurs,
and if they scowl and scoff,
then they must be flipped off.

Tell generals they delight
to climb their hierarchy
enslaving youth who fight
to keep their owners free:
if generals howl and hoot,
present The Bird Salute.

Say toadying little ferrets
are guaranteed a cheer,
while unconnected merit’s
rewarded with a sneer:
if they disparage you,
you know what you must do.

Call honor egotism’s
euphemistic name;
point out that patriotism’s
an antidote to shame,
and if they are outraged,
release The Bird uncaged.

Then vanish, poem, at last,
when you have done your duty,
into the spirit’s vast
retreat of truth and beauty,
and leave this world we see
to King Hypocrisy.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 17, 2009



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