Filth (Poetry)

They’re everywhere — small seeds of our destruction,
cancers weeding sly down dingy cracks —
words that spell society’s corruption,
lurking like old men in dirty macs.

We stamp them out, scrub off the vile graffiti,
cleanse our streets of foul four-lettered scum,
censor books and film, destroy completely
all loathsome trace — in case we’re overcome

with wickedness — the urge to use bad language —
to curse and spit what’s dreadfully obscene —
infected by the nasty nouns and verbage
that fill our mouths and minds as we blaspheme.

O keep us, then, from words that are explicit,
don’t let us see the writing on the wall
and hide away profanity’s hot cesspit
or we’ll be dragged in screaming, one and all.

Dictionaries define the pornographic,
so burn them in a sanctimonious purge —
design a set of sexless hieroglyphics
to save us from this filthy written scourge.

Let’s all deny we’ve ever felt a flutter
of interest in erotica and such
and never swore (above a half-heard mutter) —
O fuck it all, that’s asking far too much.