A Poem by Adel Bishtawi

To bee or not to bee,
Said the bee to the other bee,
Either I have to sting you,
Or you have to sting me,
We’ve been flying everywhere,
Seen things that nobody saw,
Swatters in every hand,
A blow after a blow,
One minute the chicken’s free,
Browning nicely in the sun,
The next minute it’s in oven,
Screaming loudly, “I’m done”,
The girl under the boy,
Squashed flat and overrun,
Choked already but has to say,
“Wow!!!, Aahaa!!! My honey bun,
I’m having lots of fun”,
Months of kissing,
And more of pressing,
It’s really difficult to stand,
Then the boy has a confession,
“I am faithful to my hand.”
The rich are rich and the poor are poor,
And never the twain shall meet,
If the poor are to play,
The very rich must pay,
But both are dragging their own feet,
The next to come is a money crash,
Wealth will wipe out in a flash,
But we are bees so what do we care?
They stole our honey and smoked us out,
Old and young, boys or girls,
They don’t hear us when we shout,
So stinging me and stinging you,
Is the wisest we can do,
As the more we think it through,
Is a clear proof,
That neither of us have a clue.