Remembrance of Things Pasteurised
The year was but a few weeks old
The day a paltry hour
When she whom I should not have sold
Unwilting, like a flower
For a purse of traitor's gold
Submitted to the power
Then she cursed my date of birth
The letters of my name
The hour I'd risen from the earth
Myself, my sire, my dame
She cursed until her throat was raw
And I lay reeling on the floor
The place was but a few leagues East
By any mortal map
When, tracking the daemonic beast,
I had a slight mishap:
I ate a pound of brewer's yeast
Within a mildewed bap
Then my poor digestive tract
Perplexed by such a load
Disgorged a mighty cataract
I yelped, "I shall explode!"
I could not eat for thirty days
And fed myself by 'other ways' ...
The pit was but a metre deep
Below the forest floor
When she, who should have been asleep
A thousand nights and more
To wait the crowning of the sheep
Awoke, to general awe:
"Then she must be made our Queen!"
The general cry arose
She answered with an phrase obscene
And struck a whorish pose
She brought the monarchy to dust
Sequestered in that pit of lust!
The ship was but a distant smudge
Beyond the distant coast
When she whom wild nags could not budge
At last gave up the ghost
And rose on high to meet her judge
With this peculiar boast:
"I'm fitter far to rule than you
In Heaven or in Hell
You buried me; I rose anew
To sound your final knell
She waved her hand, reset the game
Now each of us must take the blame!
| Contributors: | TG, Roland, P, Anon.. |
| Poem finished: | 29th January 2003. |