Tuesday Poem: How to recognise a psychopath in the catfood aisle

how to recognise a psychopath™ in the catfood aisle

there will be a plausible whiff of déjà vu
look for the sign Hitler peed here first
the numbers won’t add up
there will be acolytes
intense purring then

how to recognise a psychopath™ in the mirror

ain’t going to happen

how to recognise a psychopath™ after the election

I never said that
you people in the media
I never slept with my eyes open
you people you people
you people who want me to blink
why am I surrounded by imbeciles
you media people
if it wasn’t for me
you’d be history
you will

how to avoid employing psychopaths™

previous disastrous experience is preferable
keep the voltage to a minimum
when they tell you what they can do for the organisation
they will

what to do if a psychopath™ stars in a TV series

count the bodies
count the number of women
count the times you have seen it all before
calculate the millions made through the ritual slaughter
of women in x√2 crime programmes to the power of 10
change channels and repeat
till sated

what to do if you are a psychopath™

but read the textbooks anyway
and improve your functionality
in disabling liberals
educational venues

what to do when psychopaths™ read poetry

not recommended
systemic failure indicated

what to do when all else fails™

the unit will self-destruct within a given time frame
meanwhile avoid suspect civilisations
deploy intuitively based early warning systems

Tuesday Poem


About paparoa

Writer and researcher.
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7 Responses to Tuesday Poem: How to recognise a psychopath in the catfood aisle

  1. Really enjoyed this, Jeffrey. Seems light on the surface, but there’s a sinister element too.

  2. Paparoa says:

    Hi Janis – thanks. The experience in garnering the poem was pretty sinister too, or rather, the relationship.

  3. I love the rhythm, and I particularly love what remains unsaid! And as Janis says, there’s an underlying chill that continues to disturb after you’ve finished reading.

  4. Jeffrey Paparoa Holman says:

    Hi Kathleen. Yes, the chill is there in person at times. Goodness knows where the rhythm came from – it just bubbled up from the title, and so I went with it. It is, in its way – I feel – a protest poem against toxic organizations, powers complexes run by males that employ people like this to do the dirty work of sacking large swathes of staff, and otherwise laying waste. Margaret Thatcher was a female exception.

  5. Helen Lowe says:

    Almost as though the poem grew more serious as it went along …

  6. Jeffrey Paparoa Holman says:

    That’s true, I think it grew, ‘though it was always ‘serious’. Poems grow, I think, because we don’t know where they’re going – well, hopefully, we don’t.

  7. Pingback: 2010 in review | Paparoa's Blog

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