Solitude 
   by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
   Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
   But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing and the hills will answer;
   Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
   But shrink from voicing care.


Rejoice, and men will seek you;
   Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
   But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
   Be sad and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
   But alone you must drink life's gall.


Feast, and your halls are crowded;
   Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
   But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
   For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
   Through the narrow aisles of pain.


You think that's cynical enough?
just wait....


Oprah & Co., by M.P. Campbell

I lick the blood from my chin
   And take one more juicy bite;
Just like a thief, I grab at their grief
   And enjoy the internal fight.
I sit to commune with my friends--
   Jenny Jones, Ricki Lake, Donahue
Oh what the heck, I like a good wreck,
   And, let's just be honest, don't you?

We help them to rip themselves open;
   Their minds and their feelings laid bare.
While their insides cook, we promote the book
   And tell other people we care.
Ella Wilcox has it all wrong,
   We'd all love to sympathise
We all want to know your personal woe
   And your health and joy's demise.

But don't ask us for more than our words,
   We don't want to hear more than your tale
If, because of your loss, you put yourself on a cross,
   We'll be glad to drive in one more nail.
But when we've drank up all your pain,
   We will find you to be a bore;
We quickly learn of a new heart to burn,
   And you're left as you were before.


2 April 1995
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