My cock has a commentary on everything
yet brain is confounded by its decrees
My intellect dresses up in finery
& dons the fashions of the day
My cock, however, offers pure simplicity:
everything is naked
& sophistry seems vain
My intellect invents multiple "reasons"
for each endeavour
concerned with logic & propriety
yet cock considers this a charade
My pernicious pugilist
ignores pretense perfectly:
it knows what it wants & how to proceed
& was hard-wired for pleasure
long before all humans began
Below the belt,
all intellectualizations are ineffectual
& rationalisations a waste ah time
My "Little Napoleon" yearns to conquer the world
but my conscience can't comply
sensing the tiny Corsican is far too awry
Alas – each pecker must face its own Waterloo:
it's best for all on earth
The best place for cock-brained Napoleons
is some distant St. Helena –
far from the bustle of ordinary affairs
where the grapes are laced with arsenic
& the sands of time shift without care
