he wears a jester’s apparel

in rainbow stripes and bells

tells you not to listen to the voices in your head

 

he’s in the corner now

with his thumb up in the air

a rictus grin upon his face, faking laissez faire

 

the little clown, see how he whirls

his words around his baton

displaying his inanity while spitting titty venom

 

admonishing philosophy   

he spews a puerile mind

a naïve mess of bitterness, stupidity and bile

 

Plato would have chained him up

within a shadowed cave

kept him there for forty years then let him out again

 

then he might see the différance of Derridean thought

that comedy can only work

if thinking is of import