Categories: uncategorized
Date: 05 April 2007 12:06:46
Colonel Kernel
caught this thought:
“I know, I'll go
around these islands, highlands, dry lands
and greet those I meet,
and treat them to tea replete with meat.
“I'll pester Leicester,
speak in Speke,
aver before a clerk in Derby,
‘Where would one, wearing wool,
have stood upon a stool?
Shoulder-to-shoulder? Should I?'
for I am a loser on the booze
too loose to soothe
the grieving leaves deceived by Eve.”
Tonight, a white knight
came, took aim,
knocked a nook
filled in by builders,
climbing and rhyming
Do you view too soon to chew? Shew
me the money.
Come in, Birmingham, yore thyme is up.
Mail this male to gaol for telling tales.
Later - eight days, maybe -
(now) Lieutenant Kernel left
the army, proud, allowed
to crowd his palms with crows,
his alms - florins - to foreigners,
sighing, “Lying twice in paradise,
I wish to motion, fashion
schools, scope my skull,
design nine
conkers, concur centrally,
confer control,
assimilate asymmetrically.
Perhaps,” he purred, “poor
peasants (eating peas and ants)
will learn to turn
their tone to God's own
wedge of language.”