deepundergroundpoetry.com
Der Furor
The zealots speak with half a wit,
So tragically incomplete,
Having been congenitally split
With the other half in their seat,
Where constipation forms a bond
Their bitter heart cannot undo
And then in time they get quite fond
Of skipping to their angry loo
To strain until the face gets red
In fearsome contemplation
Of what someone may say instead
Of their prideful indignation
Which sounds a lot just like, of course,
The beating of their long dead horse.
So tragically incomplete,
Having been congenitally split
With the other half in their seat,
Where constipation forms a bond
Their bitter heart cannot undo
And then in time they get quite fond
Of skipping to their angry loo
To strain until the face gets red
In fearsome contemplation
Of what someone may say instead
Of their prideful indignation
Which sounds a lot just like, of course,
The beating of their long dead horse.
Published 27th Jul 2022
Author's Note
From July 18th, 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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