The critics just faun it, the Mail just loathes;
The public’s not stupid, it’s in on the deal –
We’ve always known it’s the emperor’s clothes,
It’s only the artists who think it’s for real.
And all’s just performance-ing art in the end,
These artists we hate yet adore:
That pompously-arrogant, smugly-camp blend –
Such wonderful caricature !
Dreams, come not and bother me tonight,
Tonight I have no time for dreams.
I am exhausted to the seams,
And need the black to snuff the white.
So do not follow in my deep,
To make me cry or hope or leap.
Tonight, I only wish to lie –
So let me lie, and only dream of sleep.
And negative spin,
Strong verbs and weak verbs
With preference baked-in.
Group B and Group 2
Subconsciously mocked –
Loaded and cocked.
We’re judging the diff’rence
From concept to mouth,
And neutral assessment
Is all heading South.
This is the time of the viral star:
Of the unintended baritones,
Of sudden blasts on nose trombones,
And the throaty roar of bass catarrh !
The husky whisper strains with grief
To the beat of mints against the teeth.
I wonder what the First of November is like
In the depths of Hell.
A day, perhaps, when demons all go on strike
And stay in their shell –
A lazy morning, then walking the three-headed dogs
And feeding the trolls,
Or taking the chance to restock the brimstone logs
And polish the skulls.
Packing the trident away along with the horns
For the rest of the year,
And binging on soaps with the grandkid-demonspawns
And an ice-cold beer.
‘Irregardless’ – I love it !
It drives the pedants wild !
A double-neg that disses regs –
A blithe, unruly child.
You know just what it means, admit it !,
For all you raise a stink –
And so we’re never gonna quit it,
Irregardless what you think.
Berlin – City of the english Language,
All Thanks to Hollywood and Touristdollars –
With bilingual Signs to ease our Angst and Anguish,
And fluent Secondtonguers and subconscious Scholars.
From Burntborough Square to Prince Elector Way
Welcome to Berlinnington-on-Spray.