A Day In Lilliput
Black and white rain in Lilliput,
trickles like treacle in the hush,
as artists play their auto-harps
strumming on strings of vibrant blague.
Public servants and bigots crow,
each one in their own mellow key,
singing their songs of modesty
strumming on strings of vibrant blague.
Journalists and gallerists bray,
waving their arms around like birds,
pompously talking of their finds
strumming on strings of vibrant blague.
Black and white rain in Lilliput –
Strumming on strings of vibrant blague.
Now listen well in Lilliput,
as days progress in emptiness,
listen to the politicians
strumming these strings of vibrant blague.
In the colourless world of art,
“black and white” is all the rage now!
Empty Lore-lies – sing praises!
Strumming these strings of vibrant blague.
“Enough! Enough!” A brave soul cries,
in hallowed tones of lullabies,
“Humpty Dumpty just fell again!
Strumming these strings of vibrant blague.”
Now listen well in Lilliput –
Strumming these strings of vibrant blague.
© G.s.k. ‘15
OctPoWriMo – October 10, 2015