Question
I wrote a poem to the gods,
a request for them, simple and polite,
to stop making love so fucking loud.
I need my sleep, you see.
Why a poem, that's my question.
It's not important that gods
make a terrible amount of noise
when they fuck, and keep me up all night.
That everyone knows - they're gods, after all,
and can go all night long.
Why a poem? I might have mounted the stairs,
carrying something heavy,
walked right in and said:
"In the name of Jove,
can't a man get any peace,
without you fucking so loudly!"
Shut them up right real good, I would;
Old Apollo getting limp
at the sight of me,
and luscious Diana
gone dry as a bone.
Why a poem? No use orphean lyre here.
Why wake the muse,
like a pesky tenant,
or an invalid patient,
had to go pee?
Let her sleep.
This misery that keeps me up and awake,
a voyeur to the wails and lapping of godly cunninlingus,
why spread it like a disease?
No use poetry,
no use politics,
no use lyrics.
Why write a poem,
to the gods,
who keep me awake all night long fucking?
Nathan Miserocchi