I gave buns to the elephant

At the Zoo
by A. A. Milne

There are lions and roaring tigers,
and enormous camels and things,
There are biffalo-buffalo-bisons,
and a great big bear with wings.
There's a sort of a tiny potamus,
and a tiny nosserus too -
But I GAVE BUNS TO THE ELEPHANT
when I went down to the Zoo!

There are badgers and bidgers and bodgers,
and a Super-in-tendent's House,
There are masses of goats, and a Polar,
and different kinds of mouse,
And I think there's a sort of a something
which is called a wallaboo -
But I GAVE BUNS TO THE ELEPHANT
when I went down to the Zoo!

If you try to talk to the bison,
he never quite understands;
You can't shake hands with a mingo -
he doesn't like shaking hands.
And lions and roaring tigers
hate saying, "How do you do?" -
But I GIVE BUNS TO THE ELEPHANT
when I go down to the Zoo!

Freedom of speech

Could one poem really be worth a life?
Just one poem?
And if so, which one?
How can I begin to have the people who "care" understand the question,
Let alone come up with an answer?
To understand that it really might have been alright,
To have given up everything,
Money, power, appreciation, children, love, goodtimes, bonne omy, laughs and drunken nights out, success, holidays in the carribean, you know... The whole works.
Everything that you're supposed to care about.
Even dignity.

For the sake of a few words on a page,
That "most people" will never hear
And those who do will misunderstand
Take these words to be the puerile rantings of a child
Who didn't get enough love
Or too much
A teenager who didn't get enough sex
Or the wrong kind
A man who trusted too much
Or thought too much
Or thought too little
Or about the wrong things

Freedom of speech,
Is not the opposite of censorship or oppression
Of course we must not be censored to even begin
But this is only the beginning