my brain’s like a chicken
marinated
and ready for the roast
my ideas ancient
and my thoughts mediocre
my speech an inaudible mumble
and still these IQ gods follow me
through websites and various incarnations
always with IQ tests on offer;
but Oh why do you want to test my lack of IQ,
O ye popup gods
O ye pursuing gods in cyberspace
what pleasure do you get in testing IQs
or, in my case, the lack of it?
there are many geniuses out there no doubt to play fun games
and to tick and click and to complete surveys you devise
but as for me,
a confirmed idiot,
I’d rather sit and watch the clouds move past in the sky
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hahahaha! Couldn't resist this one. Yes, I'm fed up with all those pop ups too.