An Anagram of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 3

“Oh, We Be Few, Oh, We Be Few,” She Huffed

Go softly to the Disneyland Hotel,

Its simulacral threshold grown sublime:

The bedrooms all emit that new car smell,

Like nothing else in bourgie Anaheim.

Where leftist brownies get our mothers high,

Humanity is poorly led, forsooth—

In Eisenhower’s shadow lies the lie;

In Soviet-run brothels lies the truth.

Henceforth let odorous intensities

Of talkativeness, torture, filth, and death

Stiffly arouse posh, gilded melodies

Beethoven might have come up with on meth.

The tawdry footsteps of a bawdy Goth

Are footsteps washed in washed-up Oshkosh broth.

via Wags Revue. How did this conceit end with something that sounds so eerily like Eliot? With this, K. Silem Mohammad is a front runner in the Halfway Decent Poem of 2009 contest.

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