Young reader’s lit is a lucrative gig;
Feeds slop to learner like waste to a pig.
We love to get them reading. Ah . . . but what?
Such open-minded offal as would shut
The hallowed sluice of Wisdom in a blink.
Grand waste of authorship, paper and ink
Noble trees pulped, and presses run—for this?
Distasteful tales and messages that miss
By so far they ought never have been told
Let alone color-printed, bound and sold.
Grotesqueries and morbid cultural rot
Raw ugliness (intentional or not)
Drips forth from this modern infantile lit
For any reasonable end unfit.
Behold P.C. fluffery, ethnic vibes
(Half of it scribed by lost Israelite tribes)
Global fables for our brave new deviants
Multi Kulti nonsense; non-experience
Mafupe’s New Ungwa, Tano Means Five
Sho-Sho Goes the Wira-Wira. Such jive . . .
My, such juvenile literary news
Serving to propagate progressive views:
Tia Fulana, Red Agitator
Grand Dad’s a Genderqueer Instigator . . .
Frida: Surrealist Queen of Misfit Art
Smelly Joe’s Super-Duper Stinky Fart
Pages that dribble like a sneeze-filled rag
Well-pitched witchery, spelled out by some hag:
Diego the Dinosaur Reads Karl Marx
Trani the Modern Mixed-up Kitten Barks;
Volume on volume of frivolous trash
All New York Times-reviewed (for kiddie cash):
Zombies Want Candy, Jimmy Has Three Moms
Snot-fest For Sassy Sue (Special Ed Bombs).
Manga mediocrity, attention-span killers:
Useless mind-wasting library-fillers.
Humpy and Fluffy Hunt for Chocolate Eggs
Barrels of froth (more like the tepid dregs ?)
Squirrel’s Fall Harvest Festival Goes Nuts
(Death by a thousand cutesy bookish cuts):
Endless reams of mindless marketed waste
With effete tribute paid to vilest taste
A globalist ghetto hype-o-rama
Party that starts and ends with Obama;
Covers flush with myriad fake awards
Encouraging our failing culture towards
The darkened depths. And who should bear the blame?
Publishers who mutually stroke for fame!
Such propaganda aimed at your child
After being mocked, ought to be reviled.
To hail such shameful writing as diverse
actually serves to achieve the reverse;
revisionists (more like demons than elves)
have loaded your local library shelves.
The smoldering wick of so-called children’s lit,
Foolish lamp of decadent light, unfit
To illuminate or to froth about
Thus wavers, flickers faintly, and goes out.
A poetess/princess, Miss Kaur
Was promoted through publishing’s power.
Scrawling lines for a hobby,
This perky Punjabi
Turned rupees to dollars per hour.
You’ve labeled us rightly: Real news. It’s no libel.
Forget about Putin; we’re just having fun
as we cling to tradition, and guns, and the Bible.
The pipe-dream is ending. Your war has begun.
We are glad you’re progressive—your future awaits.
Take your baggage, and go. We won’t hinder your flight.
You could choose one of many dull globalist states
or else stay, and prepare for the cultural night.
We are vulgar and mean. You appreciate art.
We’re black velvet painting. You’re classical strings.
We are rigidly Right. You are left feeling smart
but appalled by the changes democracy brings.
We’re the garbagemen next to your uptown Picasso.
Our news is pure falsity. Why ? Cause you say so !
We are selfish, aggressive, misogynist too . . .
(you can ask our sweet wives if the latter is true).
We’re oppressive to immigrants, harsh on our kids.
While you signal your virtue, we have none to show.
Such deplorable ways have you flipping your lids.
So please go out in style. Or else don’t—but just GO.
We’re immune to the slurs you’ve been slinging for years.
Please progress to the North without further delay
and make good on your promises. Spare us the tears.
And buzz off—take a hike. Break a leg. Fade away.
