Saturday, 2 February 2013

Baby London

The skyline steadily ascends
As the margin decreases
And profits continue to soar
One down
The beanstalk climber
Has a lucky escape
I should be dead he sighs
But I stayed in bed
Jack’s a lazy boy
The top of the tower is hidden
Shrouded in 12 tog clouds
A princess is stranded on the shore
She awaits her winged fiery chariot
Meanwhile back at the ranch
The king throws a banquet
You’re a wonderful mother
Laughs Jack languidly
Catching a pattie in his teeth
As the old queen Frisbees them
Out over the assembled unwashed
soon to be stain removed masses

Looking out of his high window
Pale face sees red and white cranes
Not the green shoots
On his desk a beanstalk
Creeps limply over the edge of a jam jar
An earthing wire - the green fuse
The fogs have mystified
And the tower has buckled
It’s all about luck repeats the rabbi
Let them eat horse
Whinnies the observer
As fire rains down from the sky
I should be ded
But I got some zeds
Reads the headline
Clinging wilfully to the precipice
You should be extinct
Who killed the high street?
I said the duck
Its webbed feet thrashing
Below the milliband………

Down below consumers
Are consumed by an overwhelming
Appetite for cheap meat
Thus spreading the spiralling costs
Of the towering tower
Babbling they merge into a whole
Wir sind das Volk!
Part of something bigger than
All of them put together
A man points blandly
A finger post
At the now flaccid bean stalk
As Pegasus lies dying on the tarmac
Buses will be on diversion
For up to three days
Odysseus is advised to use the underground