A Rant in Verse


Here's a rant in verse that I just wrote. I'm not sure that it rises to the level of a poem, but it's kinda fun nonetheless...

I hate the smell of popcorn,
the artificial butter
and fake salt (for all I know)
waft so insidiously that
I breathe only through my mouth --
it makes my throat so dry I
gasp for water and fresh air.
Besides it reminds me of
the movie theatre -- did I
mention that I hate movies?
They make me ill, the moving
pictures and unrealistic
assumptions and patronizing
themes grate on me to no end.
And don't even get me started on
television. Not a word
will I say about that fine
institution, nor about
shopping malls and credit cards,
hot dogs and Coca-Cola.
I guess I must be anti-
American. Yet I love
baseball, the Constitution,
the poetry of Whitman,
the music of Ellington,
and flags of red and white and
blue and only thirteen stars.
But I guess some would say that's
anti-American too.

Peter Saint-Andre > Journal