When the weeping muse has run out of tears
And the poet no longer has any ideas,
When slowly but surely your hope disappears
There's a friend who can help you in spite of your fears.
Only dead men can see him and folk who are blind
And if you go searching you never will find
Him, he only appears
To children and lepers and failures and fools
And drunkards and liars who break all the rules,
He's the friend of transvestites and cripples and queers
With a voice that no cleric or Pope ever hears,
His body is broken and nailed to a tree
And only through bondage can he make you free.

John Thorkild Ellison

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-friend-in-need-12/