Tuesday, August 24, 2010

It's godawful poetry fortnight

For the sordid details, visit: http://zigzackly.blogspot.com/2010/08/grandson-of-godawful-poetry-fortnight.html
My annual contribution:
Death by BMC

T’was not the soppy nightingale nor the wet-blanket lark
When the life insurance agent espied her limp, lifeless body
Under the hideous gilt-touched plaster-of-paris monstrosity –
- A ridiculous, shamefully tacky, cringe-inducing faux-Gothic arch.

‘Bloody BMC philistines have ruined this park,
Do these morons think this crap is high art?’
While examining her pulse his thoughts were like Bourneville
- intensely and horribly, terribly dull and depressingly dark.

A sweaty, smelly doctor wheezed and jogged past,
Then reversed his steps to deliver a life-saving blast.
He administered CPR in vain, then glared at the arch,
- ‘These sods have killed her – haven’t they heard of Zay Zay School of Art?

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