The Punchline Poem by Francie Lynch

I won't come up short again,
Falling for clichés and praise,
Not now nor till the end of days.

I will not roll my weary eyes,
Shut ringing ears to truth-based lies;
Click my tongue or act surprised,
To the shenanigans of home-grown spies.

I will not throw up my hands,
But step close to the deathbed rant,
And hear the confessions
Of the Select's election;
The psalms of prophets
Who turned sour,
Who get stoned for their greed for power.

"I am he for whom you search,
my manicure suits the crown.
I'm not worthy for such honour,
Offered to prince or harlequin clown.
You'll pardon me,
If I misspoke,
But you missed the punchline:
I'm the joke."