Time’s Ringmasters

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Times go the way ringmasters say, who crack the whip, voila!

According to the dosh of brains and social precepts

Dished out by circumstance: in climbing gangly crops,

Whose ruse rescinds headlocks, then reinvents submission,

Seeded derision wildfire raging through new pages, rendering

Old-School rules dead with much ado, upholstering adaptation

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Masters of arts and science, armchair savants bring themselves

A label when at table, at grace sitting above salt

Messed, unconfessed, like all the rest, proud overrated thoughts

Endorsing them; like us provisioning splendid private functions

With fancy-dress, deserving clothes put on, a composition;

A working understanding by its propositions dangled

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Not only are not things arranged in just-so smart good order

As like do chorus leaders hymns refrain as frothy pops,

Ingratiate to our douloi insufficiency-desire –

Subjects of aspiration higher wonted governed –

This has been late a practice we all struggle

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But then are there men, some women too; anon, Forgotten Books

(A Company; exotic reprints, resurrection names)

Like as of old a Patriarch’s guardian angel covered-over

Encrusts them, powdery centuries of long library neglect

With scents of places one suspects the elders of old books

Have dropped defunct, bedfellow iTune relicts

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Even Internet profusion one would think not to have stocked

Such things like these surprises, pease in Mendel’s sheltered gardens

Provendering full abundance, in varieties, colour, quotients

A bran-tub of delights with prizings every time

That hatters running-mad could have no haggle with it

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A noiseless past-kept secret, gone unpublished, now at-large

Able in body to accomplish, fetch our kailyard lands

From elegant trajectories, le performance les doyens

In mid-career, long-service, and entitled; sailing swans

To penitential ends

And led by their own leading, followings of friends

Like cast-eyes roll, their company a world dismounted

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I have seen Carter’s wonderful things in prose disbursing

I have with Archimedes found out all-surprise,

Been knocked like a fancy-hat through – with a startling blow 

Vastly, and asking me a further mine divine, let conquer

My heart some more by profuse lore which remembers

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Words of The Lord, works won through care’s devotions

Wrapped in a spider’s web, a local preserve of much fruit

Potable to consumers every way

Bringing sight to the blind and spirit to a weary clay  

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A bright light lit in Dead-man Street; it leads a better way

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