The Spoonbill Generator

Propose The Impossible

Jemima: take this catapult [Roland]

And pray for healing snow [P]

Your father says he's feeling queer [TG]

About the missing Musketeer [Roland]

And though I know it's not your fault [TG]

I share his grievous woe. [Roland]

Jemima: feed the ducks again [P]

And liberate the sheep [TG]

That, tied behind your Chevrolet [Roland]

Have striven daily, come what may, [P]

To wipe away th'unsightly stain [Roland]

Of those whose lives were cheap [P]

D'you mind my asking, by the way [Roland]

And, if you do, please shout, [TG]

Why your smile is made of sand [P]

And why, like an elastic band [Roland]

You stretch the sense of Saturday [TG]

Till Sunday's half shoved out? [Roland]

Your mind is what the world would see [TG]

If half the world were gone [Roland]

And in that subterranean grot [TG]

Beneath the land that slime forgot [Roland]

There lies a sheltered glade, where we [TG]

Drone on and on and on [P]

You've mined the sea for precious gold [TG]

The stratosphere for salt [Roland]

Yet when you cast a downward gaze [TG]

At those who shimmer through the haze [Roland]

You'll know the truths that you were told [TG]

Are riddled through with fault. [Roland]


Contributors: Roland, P, TG
Poem finished: 22nd October 1998