Leisure Class lemmings

The Hothouse Orchids, Special Snowflakes, Precious Peacocks, too,
Desire to dominate the deaf and dumb:
Themselves, the ones who will not hear, who parrot words untrue,
According to their single rule of thumb:
Receive The Rumor, then Repeat, as if the old is new,
Like children chanting to a beating drum.

The pre-pubescent pugilists at recess taunt their type:
“Mine's bigger!” each proclaims of his small bone.
With no hair on the chest or groin or armpits, still they hype
Their right to perch atop the playground throne.
When frustrated by losing their entitled place they gripe,
Fueled by the flow of twerp testosterone.

This homone that a pair of tiny testicles secrete
Makes little schoolboy woodies stand-up stiff.
Yet many years must pass before the plow and furrow meet.
Till then they're lucky if they get a sniff.
But, still, “heroic” movies send them strutting down the street
Like lemmings heading towards the nearest cliff.

Good luck, of course, when Dad-and-Mommy's trust fund intervenes
To shield our little lords from bad and cruel.
Affirmatively actioned up the ladder thanks to genes
They'll never have to fight or live on gruel;
Which life, should they bear witness to its grim and ugly scenes,
Would make them piss their pants or drop a stool.

They long to steer Titanic towards the iceberg dead ahead.
In fantasies, they save the ship and crew.
They yearn to split the muffin, push the parsley, but instead,
They choke the chicken till the bird turns blue;
Then beat the drowning dog to earn some “military” cred:
The spinal column's famous yellow hue.

But lemming overpopulation, even at the top,
Requires reduction. Too much appetite,
Conspicuously wasteful, Veblen said, must surely stop.
So to the sheer cliff's edge we must invite
The lemming divers of the leisure class to belly flop
Upon the rocks below, from some great height.

Or at the next Olympic Games, in Winter, somewhere cold,
(Again, with Russian athletes not allowed)
A U.S.-only demonstration of cliff-diving bold
Could entertain and mesmerize the crowd.
With flag-draped bodies on the ice, the U.S. wins the Gold.
The Stars and Stripes: failed parachute and shroud.

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2018