Classic Poem

When the Comforters of Job
Had filled up each weary lobe
With suggestions, there appeared—
Goatee foot and goatee beard—
Most appropriately from mist,
Satan, the Psychiatrist.

He said, “I've seen and overheard
How you look, and every word
You have uttered makes me guess
I can help you in distress.
First, let not your mind be bumptious:
Jonah, gulphed by his Subconscious,
Stands for fact. The parable
Is, of course, the whopping Whale.
Your Subconscious is your trouble
Which your Reason can but double.
Let us now proceed to state it;
Then we'll try to sublimate it.

Oh, your instinct was so right
When you cursed conception night,
For the source of all your bother
Is, of course, your lady Mother,
She craved, just before her wedding,
Highballs and a whole plum pudding;
And that ante-natal wish
Lands you in this kettle o' fish.
For, you know, too many Scotches
Make the skin come out in blotches:
Confluent furunculosis
Is the rest of your psychosis,
Which may represent the plums
In that pudding of your Mum's.

Things that on the land and sea go
Are projections of your Ego:
Leviathan and Behemoth—
You may add the Lord to both—
And we get three combinations
Of immense hallucinations.
God is merely a convention
That produces inward tension,
Or a goal man cannot match
Just to keep him up to scratch;
Else, he might be just as thievish
As you're itchy, old and peevish.

Sing this little song with me,
‘Since there is no diety
What's the use of piety?
Or of goodness, or of badness?
Either way can lead to madness
As Responsibility
Leads to imbecility.
Long ago against Free Will
Mankind took a sleeping pill.
It is time he took another
Sleeping pill against his Mother.

Every man from woman came,
Only woman is to blame.
Every thing's hereditary
Therefore, eat, drink and be merry.’

Since your mind can now perceive
Only evil comes from Eve,
Borrow an ax,
With a couple of whacks
Kill your mother