Sacks Of Moonshine
Out here in the wasteland
Where publishers dream
It's hard to be certain
That any one scheme
Will tickle the fancy
Pique the disdain
Of those who come after
Or fail to remain
When all that is written
By keyboard or quill
Will give the hard-bitten
No reason to kill
No reason, at least
That conscience decries
While those who come after
Diminish in size
Out here in the wasteland
So deep in the doldrums
Where publicists laze
It's easy to notice
The passage of days
Some purple, some plangent
But each one unique
Condensing each fortnight
In less than a week
When all that is written
In carbon or ink
In Greece or Great Britain
Might cause one to think
Might cause a hiatus
Before each new line
Eruptions of flatus
From deep in the mine
So deep in the doldrums
| Contributors: | TG, Roland, (trad), Chevalier. |
| Poem finished: | 16th June 2006 by TG. |