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The Infantarantino

Jason Prasad

Saturday, October 24th, 2026

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Thoughts violence,
Thankfully, these verses silence.
About that terrible infant all want to unhear and unsee,
His voice and face on every radio, newspaper and tv,
That golf-tee neck.
Balances a ball atop,
Smoothly hairless and frowning,
Hear fans’ boos groaning-droning,
The unstable head nods and rocks.
Mockery mocks.
It’s a ball that never shoots and leaves,
Just look at it! The world’s stomach heaves,
At the thoughtless unthinking ball,
That ignores every call,
To go!
Its cranium hollow,
Leading all to unfollow.
If only the ball can release its valve,
And deflate itself.
Fear the senseless sphere,
Full of hot sulphuric … stay clear!
If only a ball can kick itself out,
Or throws itself away.
No, it is here to stay.
The head of fi-far-fo-thump,
Is the world’s biggest lump.
Can a head header itself far off the pitch?
Beyond tedium,
Until it’s flung itself farther.
Away from every single stadium.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/the-infantarantino/