ROACHES

by Jonathan Chisdes

How many cockroaches have I killed?
In squishing their bodies I am skilled.
I whack them hard I proudly boast:
Give up their little roachy ghost.

Who let them suckers in my place?
What nerve they have to show their face!
Let me tell you something, Mr.:
They have no right to exist here.

I will kill any who dare
Cross the threshold of my lair.
My house must be clean and free;
No pests have a right to bother me,

Scurry across my kitchen floor at night,
Give my little Mrs. a fright,
Spread disease like dirty worms,
Contaminate my house with roachy germs.

You might think I’m an evil dictator;
But always shoot first and ask questions later.
Don’t shit me about crossing ethical lines—
There are no tiny "no trespassing" signs.

I really don’t rule with an iron fist,
But a roach just doesn’t have a right to exist.
This ugly insect is mean and morose
And its two antennae are just so gross.

With their spindly legs and evil eye
Their kind deserve to die.
Sure: "All God’s creatures great and small,"
But roaches are welcome not at all.

And when this scourge of vermin approaches
There are no bleeding-hearts for roaches.
To eradicate them from Earth is my fondest wish.
Look, there’s another; I’ll get him: SQUISH!

back