Arrgh ... the angst and anxiety. The hand-wringing and pearl-clutching. Everything's being viewed through the lens of Coronavirus' lead-colored glasses. Grey-skyed doom and gloom.
Well, The Quill isn't happy with this sad, and saddening, state of affairs. Traditionally, the only people this miserable and depressed, and hence prone to such hysterics and hyperbole, are poets. And so, in celebration of the irony, I've written a poem to provide some time-honored wisdom about escaping the doldrums.
The Cure for Coronavirus
Shutdowns and lockdowns, restaurants and playgrounds,
Damn it this damnable virus,
No work and no play, just talk of doomsday,
Wiping your ass with papyrus.
Grows it the panic, so too the manic,
People are losing their minds,
Mental disorders, ass paper hoarders,
Appeals to logic, it blinds.
As reason it fades, mistakes they are made,
Errors in effort to numb,
A glass of Merlot won’t lessen your woe,
… The answer’s a bottle of rum.
Quill
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@quillfire Hahaha this is BRILLIANT.
I laughed out loud at this line:
😄
@joeylim,
And that's how the poem was born.
I was sitting on the toilet, just doing my business, and the thought crossed my mind:
I'm never sure whether I should explain how I come up with these poems as I'm certain that it affords an insight into my mental well-being ... which is perhaps something I should keep to myself. :-)
Quill
This post was shared in the Curation Collective Discord community for curators, and upvoted and reblogged by the @c-squared community account after manual review.
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@c-squared,
As always, thanks guys. What would we do without your yeoman's efforts to separate the wheat from the chaff? Once everything starts working, yours will the first Witness vote I cast.
Quill
Ah! The doomsday virus as people describe it.
Hope and humor prevails against life's assails my friend.
Blessings!
@papilloncharity,
Hope and humor indeed.
I have to admit, I have been flabbergasted by the reaction (over-reaction) to this bug. In terms of medical impact, the Coronavirus PALES to the dozens of plagues and pandemics that preceded it. If this is how we react to "a glorified flu virus," imagine how we'd react to a truly deadly disease like a contagious Marburg or Ebola.
95% of this is psychological and as we edge closer to a self-induced worldwide economic depression, it's hard not to conclude that we've failed miserably to keep things in perspective.
Quill
Well,I think technology takes the blame here master @quill.
The more we become addicted to it, the more we lose our self worth.
Like a bee hive and it's residents, we all become placed mentally into categories of functions and fear rules via misinformation.
It's a dying art to remain a rebel.
Good to talk to you again my friend as life is short and we must stay connected.
Blessings!
@quillfire
Ummm, yes, scraping the bottom of the barrel for "-us" rhymes for your iambic pentameter? Hahaha! Well it works not only from the images and sensations it evokes, but also the onomatopoeia...
Continuing the barrel analogy, if the lock down continues after 21 days in South Africa (day 2 is dawning), there will be barrels of neither merlot nor rum to be had...
Fiona
@fionasfavourites,
Thanks a lot, @jaynie.
Quill
Actually, because the regulations don't permit the sale of any alcohol. Or tobacco.....
I enjoyed this fun little poem. I especially liked the internal rhyme scheme and the multiple ways in which you referred to toilet paper. A bottle of rum, indeed.
If you're interested, please consider joining my community Blockchain Poets I just created it yesterday. It is a place dedicated to sharing poetry and commenting on the work of others.
@moeknows,
Huh, someone who knows what "internal rhyme scheme" is ... and that it's called, "internal rhyme scheme." :-)
I will go have a look at your project, Blockchain Poets.
Quill
@d-pend, @girlbeforemirror, @prydefoltz, @lymepoet, @dswigle
😂 Loved the flow and poem in general, but, damn it quill, put the damn Merlot down!
Seems I always find a reference of it in ur posts😂
@ange.nkuru,
Don't tell anyone but I actually don't drink very much of anything, Merlot included. I like to appeal to people's stereotype of the "half sloshed manic-depressive poet who should probably be locked up in an asylum for his own good" as it helps me earn the big bucks that I do.
Indeed, I'm thinking of cutting off an ear like Van Gogh in the hope that some intrigued Whale will begin auto-upvoting my posts. Or, begin wearing a red velvet smoking jacket with silk pajama pants and slippers. One or the other.
Perfectly sane poets stand no chance whatsoever.
Quill
Do worry, I won't snitch, just remember me when done siphoning whales wallets.