589. Self, Les

He was going to get high on some drugs,
He was only a no-show without,
But the bliss that he found in drug’s hugs
Was an emptiness filled up with doubt.

So he got him some more of those things
And imagined he flew in the air,
Until he was the king of all kings
As he swung o’er a kicked-over chair.

He was up in the end, he was high,
And his treachers all said he was good.
They had taught him that thought was a lie,
And he aced every test that he could.

From the preacher he got moral strength
To surrender himnself and to give,
So he stretched out his neck at full length
To let others let others let live.

From his father–his shame-name of Self;
From his mother—his tame-name of Les.
In the kitchen he sits on a shelf
Where his parents his ashes now bless.

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