Outbred…

In opposition to inbred,

My brain in my head,

Is reeling from the fact,

That I am outbred, so weird,

Found out today, from a man with a beard…

No it was not Santa,

Though it looked more like a panda,

Colored in black & white, no color where he was from,

Old time TV, movies before the sixties, a racial slur at one time,

Oh yes he was very half & half, black and white, pro & con,

Nor was he named, after anyone I did know, no John, nor Juan,

Maybe in reality he was of Satan his spawn…

Bringing unto me all sorts of negativity,

Yes, now that I mention it, he was most positively negative, in his speech so long,

Told me how I was outbred,

Born of parents only really half dead,

No brains did I receive in that line that god does hand them out,

Most likely in the line for bread, I have no real doubt…

If this poem, in all its nonsensical humor makes any sense to you the reader,

Maybe you can explain it me the writer of this outlandish yarn, as I am a breeder,

Just as my half dead parents were, I am half dead now, being almost 50,

An age a half-century older than when I was born,

Wonder if I will make it to one hundred?

If I do, I will look upon my creator with nothing but scorn…

              © ed – 4/4/04