The Big Insane Happy

The coat: a grand apparatus
And it ever wilt be
Supreme in stature and status.
This is my tale, my plea.

I sleep in a dark room
When I am not worn.
Around me moths have loomed
Since the day I was born.

The moths are patiently waiting
To munch me clean through.
‘Pon me masticating
Now I’m no longer new.

In my day I made fine tea
For all who would allow
A coat near kettles large and wee.
And I served it with a bow.

I now rest on an old table
Next to discarded toys.
I am the coat unsinkable
Neglected by girls and boys.

The sun scampers through the trees
And all are gone but me.
Is there no one that I can please
With my fur, my warmth, my tea?

The moon is laughing at my plight.
It is doubtless he will leave.
To make him go away I might
Plug my neck-hole with a sleeve.

Glowworms bare their eerie light.
I do not wish to fuss,
But coats do not like the night
Unless someone is in us.

I recall one time when
Sleet fell like buckets of water
And my owner decided then
To drape me ‘pon his granddaughter.

I kept her dry as best I could
But was useless I admit
To the old man who was so good
And who payed dearly for it.

By fire we dried our strain
And the girl began to cry
For walking out in the rain
Made dear grandpa die.

There was nothing I could do, you see.
He had done the unthinkable.
I tried to cheer her up with tea
But was no longer the coat unsinkable.

Tortured by one thought,
More than I could smother,
I saved one life but ne’er forgot
In so doing took another.

Now I am for sale
And this event still lingers
In my mind, never stale,
Like songs by sad singers.

Doubtless time will not remember
The man who wore me proudly
And saved the girl that one December
And departed this world not loudly.

The moths are now chewing.
I still recall the old man’s deed.
Yet no one is pursuing
To buy me or pay me heed.

Not only can I keep you warm
And make you delicious tea,
But can tell of sacrifice not norm
If you’d open your ears and see.

Once the moths have finished,
You’ll have allowed a desecration.
And what this man did shall be diminished
To butterfly defecation.

In regards to my limited knowledge of poetry
I am led to believe all poems are about dolphins
And dolphins quite undoubtedly and predictably,
almost absolutely certainly
are obviously
and pretentiously, quite specifically
going to result in total boredom and even, perhaps, monotony.

From this it follows that dolphins are monstrously overrated.
It’s really not that complicated.
A more appalling thing could not make me more aggravated
Than the principle of which I’ve previously stated.

It’s a stimuli I’d rather not have unfurled.
Solemnly I maintain my agitation.
I’m surprised more people aren’t suffering more acerbation
From the grim realization, a most remarkable revelation,
Perhaps even astute observation
Of this silly stipulation
And all other connotation
Since the dawning of creation
Regarding this radical insinuation,
Without further elaboration,
At risk of exacerbation,
That no one’s made the variation to escape into broader imagination
Out of this concept’s relation…
To the real world.

In the words of my ancestors,
As they most likely said it,
“I hate dolphins,” there, you read it.
And now to the first person who led it
Onto the pages to permanently embed it
Into my mind and yours, good readers,
The idea of the dolphin, those lousy cheaters
I’d much rather be contemplating glue and eggbeaters.
Who they have dolphins as our world leaders
When good ol’ “Dubya” is more alert than the average of Wal-Mart greeters?
I’m sorry, it’s just that dolphins really try my meters.

To capitalize on prior arguments,
Well, you heard it all ladies, gents.
You be the judge of all these infuriating comments.
Are dolphins worthy of any overlarge monuments?
And I think the dolphins owe us a few compliments.

If you are truly American residents
You cannot deny this creature’s resonance
That’s become such a huge and unstoppable pain in pants.
“Stop the dolphin ” you’d proclaim without ignorance,
“This animal must be stopped ”

Well, I hope I’ve made my point, if not I’ll try again.
And if this doesn’t work, I swear it’s to the corner to count to ten.
Dolphins have, in the past, made me irritated.
For a while I thought it was gone, but it regenerated.
And if not now, in the near future I’d like them to be completely abated
From poems, and in fact, anything else even a little related
And then you fine people may truly be liberated,
This foe finally terminated, you may finally be compensated
For the years lost to this menace that’s been thoroughly underestimated,
For behold; this dilemma is not today outdated…
The dolphin is monstrously overrated.