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I Did Not Write This


by Samuel Derrick Rosen


PhD's in remorse.  Babes without eyes.
Presbyterian church-goers baked in their pies.
Miss prim-and-propers stranded on meadows.
Men rescuing cats then queuing for medals.
 
I did not write this, I swear I did not write this.
 
Saurian ghouls exploiting the hours.
Emily Dickinson watering her flowers.
Black and white sheep strung out on caffeine.
It's a little pedestrian, know what I mean?
 
I did not write this, I definitely did not write this.
 
A mouth without words, a nose without smells,
swimming in dreams of ghosts without shells.
Hitler eats an apple, Stalin a pear.
Pasolini in his bathroom washing his hair.
 
I did not write this, I sincerely did not write this.
 
Miss Piggy's a piggy, Kermit's a frog.
Mozart's a monkey, Beethoven a dog.
Sub-ordinate priests in a drug store bliss.
Lonesome electrics in a sea-salt kiss.
 
I did not write this, I surely did not write this.
 
Resembling a raven minus one wing,
Demeter's daughter drunk from the spring.
Lovelorn professors prostrate on their knees.
Star-struck lovers churning their cheese.
 
I did not write this, I hope I did not write this.
 
Diurnal demons in dissembled affray,
neither malign nor benevolent, say,
but rather consisting of a dream that is real,
they are the offspring of Solomon's Seal.
 
I did not write this, I definitely did not write this.
 
Ferris wheel polemics, gymnasium blues,
psychedelic conglomerates, alternative news,
sub-basement enjambments, penthouse clich├ęs,
indicating together a modern malaise.
 
I did not write this, I swear I did not write this.
 
Observing it all outside of one's trunk
tells you there's nothing you cannot debunk.
Spread-eagle at the foot of an old birch tree,
I am somebody else, I am not me.
 
I did not write this, I really did not write this.
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