After Descartes
If Descartes were alive today
I sometimes wonder what he'd say.
The mystery's not what to doubt.
The mystery's what we care about.
The likes of Jordan, Simon Cowell
(his inane grin and mouth so foul)
while Gordon Ramsay's famous for
devising insults more hardcore.
Our greatest poets cast aside
enough of Jekyll – we want Hyde;
drop Shakespeare take up Eminem -
our god has turned comedienne.
And faking it is now agreed
to be the best way to succeed.
To be or not? don't give a damn!
"I am whatever you say I am"
We stink therefore we spam.
If Descartes sat up in his bed
and pondering our wheat-free bread
he flicked the news he be dismayed -
his doubt became our latest craze.
Truth costs too much please give us lies
and show us in between the thighs
of Venus lying looking stupid
talking dirty to her Cupid.
He holds a mirror to her face -
she's dreaming of a better place.
The reason that she's lying there
with her arse up in the air
she figures one way or another
she's gonna make it on Big Brother.
Wham and bam and thank you ma'am -
We stink therefore we spam.
Poetry by Andrew Bindon
Read 762 times
Written on 2010-01-21 at 16:34
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Andrew Bindon |
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Rob Graber |
