My Hamster, Utterly Exhausted By Trepanning
I sing of beauty and a boy's endeavour
Not to seem as foolish as the rest
Who, though by some accounted rather clever
Always had a problem getting dressed
Post-Wolfenden, what victories? So few!
We count them on the fingers of one fish
Which, battered by the hurricanes anew
Abandons hope with one last scaly swish
And catalogues his failures, row on row
Descending in a lather of old foam,
To realms of gloom where gutta-percha grow
Quite tired of carping on about the Dome
So sing of beauty, and Buckminster Fuller
cf. Poet (a carpet trapped in a mineshaft);
Defying those who, like the brave Abdullah
Of old, committed crimes that were best kept abaft.
| Contributors: | TG, P, Roland, Grayman, E Greejius, KT, The Agent Apsley, Ian Stonehouse. |
| Poem finished: | 16th February 2000. |