The shore has grown one Guido stronger with the announcement of the arrival Lorenzo Dominic LaValle. Upon this announcement, I became so ridiculously sad about the state of the Western world that I decided to don a beret and grow a soul patch to express my displeasure.
This poem is free-form, so don't be judgemental about the rhyming scheme, that would hurt my feelings and I would be forced to write another poem about it. I think schemes are for Ponzis.
THE CHILD OF JERSEY IS BORN
Behold! Nicole, the orange tyrant from which a new life did expel! I watched, a single tear rolling down my face as the most absent mind of my generation sowed her offspring upon the world.
Child of Jersey, if only you knew. The tears you shed upon entering the world would be tenfold upon learning the state of the world in which you live!
The world, an endless bounty of opportunity for any child, but sadly, not for you! Watch as you spend the first four years of your life on Music Televsion, blurring the lines between fantasy and strife. A child, mere minutes old, more ridiculed than all myths yet told!
Your mother, famous for nothing! Your father, a name less so. A by-product of drunken smooshing! A contraceptive likely broke! A life an endless abyss of danger, resulting in your loss in a game of poker.
There will be no frankincense or myrrh by your bedside tonight. Baby Ray-Bans, hair products, Onsies without sleeves. A mere prop to prelonged debauchery. Your first steps evaluated by a cop. Breathalyzer tests before you can walk.
Public feedings, a flash of light. Your face, a breast obscured, on "People" magazine tonight. Your mother's milk containing traces of Mott's Clamato! Skin, so soft, so pure, an angel's touch, emblazoned bronze, a gold chain adorning your brittle neck. No ABCs, just DTF. Every family gathering seemingly depicts a subterrean race. This is your life, forever more. Forever more. Forever more.
Are you even allowed to bring baby bjorns into clubs? We soon will learn, one can only dream!