Dear Mr. Charlie Brown,
I write this letter, to tell you now
you are a pig, thought you should know.
I can’t say this, to your big fat face
because I care, for my certificate
If this letter, ever falls in your slimy hands
I’ll be dead I know, and fed to ants
But it’s a pain to stay with you
and wake up everyday when you poke me
If I could just, have my way for a day
I would cut those fingers and feed you three
And why you like, I cannot understand
when you scratch my ear, with your grubby hand
Mr. Charlie Brown
you look like a hound
Just take a minute and hear yourself
you’ll end up hating your own sound
The vanity in which you live and cook dry meals
better food is prepared at the bottom of the ocean by a brainless eel
When you reach work you don’t use your feet
you need two men just to fir you in your seat
Your desk drawers are opened by your peon
Does his bent body turn you on?
You call out to him as if he’s your slave
and abusing him in public is anything but brave
You abuse your boss too, but behind his back
if he heard you, he’d get you sacked
And don’t feel as if you own the ones you pay
once they make enough they’ll not stay
For the Devil would be a better boss than you
He’d skin their souls but you skin my brain
Mr. Charlie Brown
you’ve weaved a thorn crown
Now get that finger out of your nose
you’ve gotta go down town
There is a banker waiting for you, he knows you’re a fraud
but you bribe him so he doesn’t mind and you strip the system blind
Mr. Charlie Brown, may you burn alive
or die in car crash or suffocate in slime
But the thing about you I most hate
is your habit of tuning in the television so late
And you watch it like a deaf strout
with the voice so loud blaring out
Causing an earthquake in my head
which you don’t feel ‘coz yours is of lead
Dare you poke me again in my sleep
Or even when I’m awake for that matter
I’ll take your finger and shove it in your ass deep
and stuff your mouth with your food and hear your teeth clatter
and I’ll show you what loud noise is
when I put your head in a drum and bang it till I please
Mr. Charlie Brown
I know you wont improve
I might write 200 pages but you’ll be a prude
Mr. Charlie Brown
Are you really gay?
You seem to love your wife and child but I’m scared of your taste
Mr. Charlie Brown
I’ll wash your computer
It’ll smell better than you and will still think better
Mr. Charlie Brown
I take your leave now
and I’ll never be back nor wish to see you again
nor hear your voice nor see your name
I wish you all the curses in the world and say badbye.
Vishal Gupta
May 30th, 2012
