Judgement Day - a grave burlesque

June 11, 2020

A cheated thought, avast!, comes boarder, out of order

Belaying and gainsaying my more proper sentence

A clumsy juggling grammar-crammer into hole in corner

Woodworks; my possets, efforts, violently to rhyme

A clashing cymbal

Or maybe dashing thinker?

In an eyeblink flashing wit to bear the thimble

Away; in burning breviaries of nimble fealties

Which closet clerks of works would cosset, testament

To die for

A certain caste of late has passed into my mind

Most sudden verdure

God sent it hand-delivered, happy as a grocer’s van

To a doorstep strews the cans to fanfares from a marching

Band. Maybe?

And comforts dwellers settled in against a movie

Who smile and slug on half-a-dram of crusty fable

Drop grocer sixpence, eating fries with other hand

In giant silence?

The contretemps of fortune might decide whether plebeian

Or whether elevated rarefied compost

Considerable manure to food the seeds of children’s

Wise ways, raising essays, and comprehensions,

Abrogating vision?

A spectacle to a preconditioned audience

A celestial load of agricultural and ancestral relevance

Dumped as a doorstop

Of no small fettle – a munimental cerebral concept

Or then again scrap metal in a scrapyard hoist?

In fact an unparticiular, badly-levelled, textual heist?

A jemmy could have opened on a policeman’s holidays

The takings had from such, rough scourings; choicely

Must roule

Shopwindowed as of passing show, of much facility

Reflective but of surface than of feat ability

Catechumen of letters, rivals, betters, civilly

Would soar above this clay

But winning, when such an innings flexures, lectures

All the way, makes

Tete-a-tetes, de facto, vis-a-vis, per se

On situations’ stipulations come what may

Bringing concrete solid block and tackle rattle dizzens

Against a head that thinks by jinks to escape its prison

Wits shake up crazy lights in eyes, as eyes saw through

A prism

No less however does this rhymer bank upon his mission

Despite derision

Let there sometime somewhere at least be some


Ayes to the right, Nays to the left, no party wall

En masse abstaining distancing by dulled don’t care

A naysayer aware far better than indifference

But a yeasayer’s declare for me no inference

Lowly before the Holy we at last must make our stand

And fallen, miss the mark, being those of whom were driven

Out of The Garden

Who thinks The Almighty offers Brownie Points to rhyming,

Needs open up their windows, google, do some earnest priming