Dr.E.M.STALE’S PILL FOR EVERYTHING

                                                                          

Dr. EM Stale works for his patients overnight
How else could they be patients, any way.
He puts his hardwater in your tub
To make you healthy, wealthy and mice.
His expert advices on culture
And treatment of earwax with hot lead
Were heady preparations for infinite pleasure
(Nobody really cares for a Masochists pleasure
As he would do, and in what excesses!).
He has a pill for the right penis size,
The correct ovation and what not.

He despices money
And so lives in abject poverty
Stacking away his emeralds and stones
All around the globe.
 He may have felled somebody
With a rock
But nobody calls him Rockfeller.

His smithy may have brains to burn off
But nobody calls him a Smith
And 1984 has nothing to do with him.
Wherever you go
You can find him in a new shape
Selling a syringe to an addict
Like peddlers do.

He used to be in office everywhere
Though in the dark
He can only figure as a vicious serpant
He who stutters
And rails about how revolutions can be done in.
His magic is white, and so was his sun
Used to torturous heat or the biting snow.

It was he who had taught the world how to die
And to do so profitably for others.
Ho/spit/all-s were named after him
Though people knew that they only made
People sick
He respected others so much so that
You can expect them  to disappear the very next day.
If he killed a god on the street
He was sure to make good profit out of it
Even calling himself godly, and turning to be a priest.

The moon that he would like to topple
The country that he would like to top
Dr, Strangelove or Caligari may have known him
But as to his own kids
It was never so sure.

One day at ten foot bridge
Under which he was playing bridge
Along with a python that had floated dead
He found himself floating dead
And thought it good riddance.