Pseudocognitive Lardies Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Pseudocognitive Lardies

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Sometimes it is so unavoidable,
the size of him or her, so unbecoming,
a rather stupid looking head and face
perched on the very top (no neck)
of massive layers of porcine lard.
They wabble, sideways through
the widest door available, and huff
and puff in an attempt to gather oxygen
to feed the cells of their cognition box
which, a sheer misnomer, does not need
much of those molecules of life.
They spend their lives in quiet desperation
by fretting constantly and spitting air
of foul and rancid character into the world.
The very sadness, if you think about it,
of trying to convince the masses when,
-though not for lack of trying- one has
not even a smidgen of a chance to be
successful in deceiving one's own self.
You'll recognise them by their pads,
fastened to sagging shoulders to make
a statement of equality, sadly, in vain.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Herbert Nehrlich1 27 July 2005

Thank you, Lardie, for the one.

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Herbert Nehrlich1 28 July 2005

A hearty thanks to the seven lardies. H

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Herbert Nehrlich1 28 July 2005

So do I Mary. This is talking about the person whose massive obesity was caused by mental deficit (which we can also feel sorry for) , not mental illness as such but suboptimal IQ. Often these people overeat to satisfy a perceived incompleteness, it's as if they were eating satisfaction and knowledge simultaneously as that is what they crave. They use shoulder pads (women and men) to appear more formidable and they learn 'big words' in the hope to impress others.Eventually they are found out and go into depression, substance abuse or, if lucky, just massive compulsive overeating. I wanted to dedicate this but thought it would ruffle feathers. Best wishes H

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Mary Nagy 27 July 2005

I have to say, I feel very sad for morbidly obese people. I know they must live in a very miserable state inside their over-sized bodies. Interesting poem though. Sincerely, Mary

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Herbert Nehrlich1 27 July 2005

Nigel, this 'one' doesn't jump, she is way too fat. H

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allan james saywell 27 July 2005

well you make a statement poem and out of the woodwork springs a (1) WHY IS IT SO) NIGEL

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