"Oh, Beautiful."

All purple lands
and waving hands
and stands of grain,
and majesty,
the people smile
like in truck ads,
all homespun warmth
and honesty, hard work
to do - to make
it all seem true
and good, and justified
while each to each
a knowing wink
betrays the LIE!
LIE! LIE! LIE! LIE!

Ha! I'm just kidding.
This poem is sort of
making fun of the sort of
dork losers who would
write a poem like that
for real.

Not me!

No seriously, though. There
are poets like that. People
who use poetry that way.
They'll write these poems

grousing about really
obvious shortcomings of
life, the world. They
want to be all, "well,
my poem says something
important, that people don't
want to deal with!" but

it's really more stuff that
they can't deal with. I mean,
things such as a particularly
slow child has no problem
grasping and dealing with.

But these poets, man, they
(some of them) want to act
like they're pulling back
some big veil, to point out
that a lot of the time,
some things suck.

Well thank God we've got
you, Shakespeare! What
a bunch of losers.

Anyway.

God bless the living
hell out of us all!

Enjoy a hot dog!