Discretion And My Distant Cousin, Kerplunk (Not Distant Enough)

Because his head (empty, and rather dull)

has labored hard to give birth to a thought---

does not ensure that its content, as stated,

has been invited or was, even, sought;

or, by those who know him, appreciated.

Full of himself, he clings to his conceit

that nothing he declares need be discrete;

like some dog squatting to release a turd.

Couth and decorum neither stall nor stay

the crushng need in his soul to be heard.

Though his achievements are too few to mention,

he strives for even miniscule attention;

and to that end, he will gamely intrude,

to share his narrow, shallow attitude.

Often bereft of any good to say,

he will not pause to say nothing at all.

 

Starward

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The first line alludes to T. S. Eliot's poem, "Gerontion."  I cite that poem as canonical precedent:  as Old Possum made mockery of Gerontion's spiritual wasre, I can do the same for Cousin Kerplink.

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