Is the Brazen Bull on Wall Street Just another Golden Calf ? Well, so what ? Don’t we have the right To choose on our behalf If we worship God or Mammon In a land where freedom’s cheered, Without three thousand slaughtered By a zealot in a beard ?
Me, I worship nobody, And laugh at those who do, But I must admit they have the right To follow gods that moo. As long as no-one forces me Within the public square – But if pressed, I guess I’d grudgingly Affirm a Rusty Bear…
Day 28 – Trophy – #inktober #inktoberpoem #inktoberpoetry
1. If the sound of distant clatter From the kitchen shakes you from your bed, If the smell of bubbling pancake batter Makes you fear the bread, Or if the chirpy chatter Of a TV chef fills you with dread, Then shriek or slink, it doesn’t matter, But just scatter to the shed….
2. If the sound of critics pishing, Tutting, and poo-pooing, taking aim, Or sneering as they’re strutting, swishing, Choosing who to raise to fame, Just sucks you of ambition, That you’ll never beat them at their game – Then don’t wait from the first edition, Join a mission, change your name…
3. If you hear a distant cry From the skirl of his pipes in piercing shrills, If you hear his hooves come trotting by, Or his bleating, braying trills, If you glance his wool-caked thigh, Or horns still bloody from his kills – Then pant and scream that the end is nigh, And run high for the hills…
Day 7 – Panic – #inktober #inktoberpoem #inktoberpoetry
What makes Mona Lisa smile ? Well, some say it’s the genius Of Leonardo’s toils – That undefining dreaminess, That soul bared free, that hallowed style, Not me – No, I say it’s the pigments in his oils That manifests his guile.
And now that she’s been painted, see, She’s micrometre points-of-colour – Sometimes brighter, sometimes duller – Quantified by RGB, And shared by log and file. Leonardo’s canvas is just that, And not some holy relic – Just a poplar panel, nothing more.
What matters is no artefact, And art critics aren’t clerics, And a gallery is not a sacred store, With treasures by the pile. No – it’s the image, not the paint, That we must cherish like a saint, And never leave to perish – But the board is just wooden tile.
And though there’s some may be indignant, We can print with oil and pigment Perfect copies, big and small – Let’s have a thousand-Lisa free-for-all ! I’d say she’s worth the while… Her beauty should be on the move, Beyond the Louvre, to ev’ry wall – So anyone can recreate her smile.
Day 2 – Relic – #inktober #inktoberpoem #inktoberpoetry
Why were the bears of Elisha called she-bears – Don’t dwell on the mauling – but just why was that in their name ? Did they refer to themselves as me-bears ? Or hairy toupee-bears, to spare the poor prophet his shame ? Or should we say ack-choo-lee, they must be sow-bears ? But wouldn’t pigs furrow the Israelite’s double-deck brow ? And these days, to play fair, should we call ’em they-bears ? And not get so bald-faced or frowny on who’s Herr or Frau ?
from Cult Movie Cards by Hüman After All, designed by Paul Willoughby
Ante-Down
Let ace be low and always low, And never beat a king – Why’s that a thing ? And shortened decks should keep the twos and threes and fours in spread, And ditch the eights, nines, tens, instead.
Let’s let them show what they should show, And wear their pips with pride – No ranks denied ! For deuces are the lovers, are the prime, and are the zen – And far less cluttered than the ten.
Detail from the original slipcase for Steve Jackson’s Sourcery ! by John Blanche
You Are The Hero !
Remember all those gamebooks from back when we were boys ? (And girls…though mainly boys.) Remember how, on tenterhooks, We’d have to make the choice Of our turning left or turning right ? Remember all the monsters and the ploys that we would fight ? Remember all the dice we’d roll To see if we would kill the troll ? And prove our might ? Remember all the traps upon the roads ? And treasures that we’d prize ? Remember finding clues and secret codes If we chose wise ? Remember flipping through the pages On our quest to smash the mages ? Turning to the paragraph with bated breath – Would we find the one true path, Or would we meet with death ?
Well, both, of course. Ev’rybody cheated, And nobody rolled dice. (Not even would the girls obey.) For nobody could force us how to play. Whenever we would be defeated, We would not think twice, But just shrug and carry-on along our way. We wouldn’t sigh when we were slain, And start from chapter one again, As laid down by the authors of these epic Middle Ages – Instead, we’d keep our fingers in the pages, Testing out each turn – To see which would reward and which would burn. And we were right to cheat so blatantly When said and done – For all the boys (and girls) agree That gaming should be fun…
Thanks AI – any kids this fake-looking must be mythical…
Epic Names
Back when Zeus ruled ancient Greece, He was the only Zeus around – No mere mortals dared to name their children So profound. At best, they’d add a suffix, To become an adjective instead – So Martins are collectively “of Mars”, And careful how they tread. We also have Demetrius To celebrate Demeter – But not, we note, to claim to be the goddess, To unseat her. Now heroes, these were fairer game – From Jason through to Herekles, By way of Helen and Cassandra – Citizens were fine with these… But it took until the Renaissance For the coming of Daphne, Phoebe, and Chloe – And Diana, of course, though she’s Roman, not Greek – But all were equally showy. And here in the Twenty-First Century, Our mythical children thrive – As Athena, Apollo, Aurora, and Atlas Are keeping the gods alive !
