Liberal Litterati

Seedy, lithe and well-oiled
In our uniform, non-conformity
Liberal minds squeak protests
From bedsit to ballroom
Decrying as fashion dictates.
Few trouble to research topics
Alien to a readership whose
Well-formed, lively sentences
So closely mimic their own.
We are all experienced here, we,
Residents of the four-walled glasshouse
What value the grass-roots witness?
When florid imagination lends itself
So well to high-def. verisimilitude
Without the constraints of
Post-traumatic stress
We rail again, against
The order of the world
Our words perpetuate
And tilt our glass
To toast the common man.

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We’ll Discuss it Over Dinner

I talked to avoid confrontation
Though practic’ly mute as a child
Postponed arguments with conversation
Changing subjects when tempers weren’t mild

That is how I once took up the trumpet
Said the first thing that entered my brain
When the atmosphere eating was honed to a point
As the adults were driving me sane

When I stepped in to cut off their fuses
Much the same as diffusing a bomb
There was never the time for new ruses
As absurd comic timing ploughed on

By expressing an int’rest in something
At a tangent from what came before
They were forced by convention of dining
To allow me to take to the floor

Over dinner I failed to digest much
Of the victuals that cooled on my fork
In my vigilant state I arrested debate
With diversions of plausible pork

J-Epic

Jennifer made such a pact with her John,
swore that their love would live on and anon
together they’d dwell, in some cottage on high
but little she knew that her pact was a lie.

For John had another, a charming young gel,
with whom, as it happened, he too’d vowed to dwell:
Poor sweet Josephine was barely out of school
but well-versed in the art of turning men to fools.

She’d wrapped John around like a bandage on thumb.
Jenny could do nothing, but feel rather glum,
as of this attachment, her John had stayed mum;
so being a bright girl, she chose to have fun.

Jen went to a party, dressed all in her best.
The music was loud, and so were all the guests.
Such boisterous antics you never did see
as what passed for dancing at Jenny’s party.

Now Jo was frustrated, she’d heard of this soiree,
but John wouldn’t take her, she swore he’d be sorry.
As she raved and she ranted, dear John got an inkling
that Jo wasn’t quite the sweet flow’r he’d been thinking.

So John took a leaf from a book known to all
womankind whose minds turn as from summer to fall,
and he called up his Jenny, but got quite a fright
when a deep voice responded – and after midnight!

Now Jake was a boxer – quite muscled and mean.
He looked fierce, but treated our Jen like a queen.
He revelled in taking her out on the town,
and showing her off in her best evening gown.

It happened one night that the foursome did meet
and awkwardly stood for a while in the street,
while Jo sized up Jenny, and John stared at Jake,
until Jake whispered low – now that runt I could take!

Just give me the word, Jenny dear, and ’tis done.
This fool should have kept you as his number one,
but he preferred flat-chested chit over there –
the one still in pigtails, who waxes her hair.

But Jenny said shush with a smile and a laugh.
What’s done is now done, no need for a bloodbath.
He’s seen what he’s missing – and for the last time.
Now let us move on – weren’t we going to dine?

The couple swept off in their silks and their furs,
and John saw his Jen finally had got hers.
He turned to see Jo with her face turning pink
clearly about to let fly with some stink.

But instead of attempting to stem her mid-flow,
John just gave a sigh as he turned round to go,
and Jo stood astounded to see that her fit
was being ignored by dear John – what a git!

So put out was our young miss by male restraint
that she flagged down a taxi and left John to paint
the town red on his own, for she cared not a bit
that her leaving was dumping him right in the shit.

For Jo’s mother had taught her, while still in the cot,
that while young, there’d be more fish to catch with a yacht.
So Jo set to fishing, and this with a will,
and John was left high, dry, and feeling quite ill.