Dripping with satire,
His tongue wagged a tale
Of redemption and rehabilitation,
The likes of which had never been heard in these parts.
He waxed poetic of absurdity
And how the theater of such
Brings about laughter
In those gifted with egos
Forged in butter.
And doesn’t butter taste so good? Of course it does.
He spun a yarn loosely based on Swift, but
Instead of selling the young and eating them,
He suggested the youngins’ be put in power
To eat the adults,
A message few in the stodgy crowd understood
Until he explained
The young represented unchecked emotion
That flares up when
Angry youths lose hope and burn the mother down.
Both modest and immodest proposals go over poorly, huh?
This storyteller had a way with perspective
Able to draw the audience to a relaxed comfort level
Only to snatch all security in their belief systems
By pointing out the hypocrisy of dominion
By mere mortals who disdain the favor of humility,
Instead, choosing to believe they have all the answers
In their unbuttered mental frameworks
That would even entertain that
Someone might sincerely advocate for
The consumption of people.
“Thinking is the butter,” he said.