Our Blessed Foolery Again
Neo® caught me unawares
When she was half asleep
And I was talking to a goat
And half-a-dozen mares
And twenty sheep
That scarcely stayed afloat
What was said I can't recall
With any certainty
Or what she was doing there
So near the ruined Mall
And curtained tree
The rotting badger's lair.
We went our ways without regret
Until, without a map
Or hope of one, we found ourselves
Entangled in a net
A faerie trap
Comprised of eights and twelves
Neo® pulled a forty-five
And then an old LP
To summon on the astral phone
A third of thirty-three
And stay alive
No gramophone
Morpheus® was not at home
In any space or time
Before the fall of Kubla Khan
After the birth of Rome
And yet opined
That life is like a tarn
The net had tightened on our limbs
But left our organs slack
So Neo® whipped them deftly out
(He used the knife that skims)
And sent them back
To stem the crimson gout
Trinity® was not best pleased:
She seldom deigned to smile
Upon bold Neo®'s worthy schemes
Nor Morpheus® diseased
Upon his beams'
Who walk the final mile
Contributors: | Apsley, olaf, Chevalier. |
Poem finished: | 11th April 2007 by (Chevalier). |