by Joseph Aaron Friedman

Created on: December 10, 2010

Sonnet:   54 on Cable,      375   on Satellite

Psychotic puppies read the news at night
So blind unto the paper on the floor,
They make a mess and leave it plain in sight
They shriek, yelp, cry, and cower out the door.

They seemingly have not a sense of shame,
They now expect somebody else to clean
The foul remainder left there in their name
They care not what they use as their latrine.

No longer shall their currish ways a bind
Whence to unfounded wisdom thine eyes close,
And shun the lies the puppy calls to mind.
The fox hides thorns and bids you smell the rose:

But, contrast in the faith so oft’ we choose
Still lets psychotic puppies read the news.

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