avatarMarilyn Flower

Summary

The web content presents a poetic parody on the theme of methamphetamine addiction, attributed to John Donne's style, alongside a satirical commentary on the drug's effects.

Abstract

The website features a poem titled "Meth, be Not Proud…," which is a darkly humorous take on John Donne's metaphysical poetry, specifically parodying his famous work "Death, be not proud." The poem reflects on the destructive power of methamphetamine, personifying it as a merciless king that brings about the demise of its users. It highlights the intense stimulation and false sense of vitality that meth provides, which is ultimately followed by a grim fate. The accompanying text includes a mock last testament from the author, 'John Donne,' humorously lamenting the drug's impact while acknowledging its seductive allure. The piece is credited to have been inspired by a prompt from Bob James, and the author, Marilyn Flower, is introduced as a writer of political humor and satire, with a background in writing for a prison newsletter and experience in theater.

Opinions

  • The author satirizes the power of methamphetamine, likening it to a god-like figure that controls the fate of its users.
  • There is a clear critique of the false sense of empowerment that meth provides, which is ultimately hollow and leads to destruction.
  • The poem suggests that the allure of meth is a deceptive trap, offering pleasure but resulting in devastating consequences, including death.
  • The satirical nature of the work extends to the author's mock biography, which humorously reflects on the absurdity of the situation, with the author staying up all night cleaning due to the effects of meth.
  • The mention

POETRY PARODY

Meth, be Not Proud…

Salvaged from a ratty old notebook of John Donne upon his death bed.

Photo by Matthew T Rader on Unsplash

Meth, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art quite so; For those whom thou knowest thou dost overthrow Die hard. King Meth, how yet can thou kill me. From rest and sleep, thy stimulation be, Much pleasure; then from thee let much more flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Devour their bones, and teeth so eloquently. Thou art God of fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, So art we poisoned underneath your wakeful spell, And neither poppy nor charms will let us sleep as well We may even have a stroke; why swell’st thou then? With one quick hit blast, we wake eternally And death shall be our fate; while Meth shalt never die.

Bless me friends as fate doth call me heavenward. Alas, this wondrous new chemical I embraced has conquered me, while yet blessing me with the vim and vigor to rise from my sickbed to give one last sermon as well as stay up all night cleaning the house. At least I needn’t feel guilty that I died leaving a frightful mess…just a frightful overdose of meth. And now, Dear Watson, the needle!~j.d.

Thanks to me matey in rhyme, Bob James for the impromptu prompt:

Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!

Poetry
Addiction
Humor
Satire
Drugs
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