The lyrics to this poem have been censored
Due to content unbefitting a poem,
Or anything else for that matter.
For not only did they compare a woman’s breasts
To a jar of olives,
But they juxtaposed an autumn sunset
With a bull being castrated in a Swedish river.
They were devoid of any discernible meter
And repeatedly alluded, not to Homer,
But to the live-action version of Scooby-Doo.
The lyrics cried out for truth,
But then apologized, and then spent several stanzas
Complaining about a persistent rash.
Indeed, the poem managed to offend and belittle
Every nation, race, religion and hairstyle,
In what seemed to be an unsuccessful attempt
At heroic couplets, which appeared only after a
A confusedly erotic reflection on Gertrude Stein’s blazer.
This poem is censored because it succumbs to every cliché
And compares heartbreak with a tennis ball covered with olive oil.
This poem is censored because it contributes nothing to anything.
This poem is censored because of its awkward use of anaphora.
And for its clear lack of
Inspiration, or even an effort for ambiguous purpose.
It is this publication’s express hope that
No soul ever be subjected this poem’s obliviousness, narcissism, incoherence, plagiarism, desperation, repetition, or
Its relentless promotion of Arby’s new Hawaiian Roast Beef Sandwich.
Or, perhaps most importantly, the poet’s fundamental lack of understanding of what it is to truly be alive.
Originally published in Lumen Literary Magazine, Spring 2015