R.J. Stove: ‘The Song of the Postmodernist’

The Song of the Postmodernist

The trouble with a sunrise is,
It puts an end to night.
Illiteracy I still crave,
Though I can read and write.

For dualism gets my goat.
Why cannot white be black?
Why should not hot be cold? What harm
In tautness being slack?

Why must a cause come with effect?
It’s such a dreadful bore
When liquid’s never solid, when
Twice two keeps making four.

I wish that God was Satan: that
We living weren’t undead.
How otherwise can I preserve
Postmodernist street-cred?

R.J. Stove

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