Comment: The Weekly Muse

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The Independent Culture
In sticky-weed and bramble shoots,

In cow parsley and nettle,

Summer swaggers through the woods,

A green man in good fettle.

The randy sun comes pushing past

The pregnant, metal thunderclouds

To wax the leaves and crack the mud,

Send hormones surging to the blood,

His horny hand on panting land

Before the flood...

I waited, bated breath, by phone

For call-to-court which never came,

But Andrew Motion got the gig

And things can never be the same.

The laurels will not be my crown,

My heart is broke, I rail and weep

Till laudanum stupor drags me down

Ten fathoms deep in jilted sleep...

Through Norfolk poppies, Sandringham,

The flatlands seen from Royal Train,

As, poised with quill to pen some paean,

I'm jerked back to the world again.

The morning jaunt in autumn fields

On horseback next to Princess Anne -

Those dreams return to nebulae

Too heady for the mortal man.

Now half the poets in the land

Must lick their wounds and curse his name.

Seventy quid and butt of sack?

Aw, come on lads, it's just a game.

"Tough Plans for Workshy Youngsters":

Those under twenty-five

Who can't be bothered fitting in

And only wish to skive,

Disdaining burger-flipping

Or selling double-glazing,

Refusing education loans.

I find it quite amazing

Our homeless teens and twenties

Display such bad behaviour

Despite their caring, sharing,

Blairing, Calvinistic saviour.

Let's take away their pittances

And show them destitution.

Three cheers for Nanny Government

And up the revolution!

A people-carrier cortege clogs

A lime-tree-lined suburban street,

The car door opens suddenly,

A cyclist and his death near-meet.

Then with that winsome, winning way

Which school-run drivers often show

She smiles at the fallen man

And as he mounts and turns to go,

"I'm sorreh," she calls after him,

"But parking here is such a pain."

"No, all my fault," the rider says,

"For trying to use the cycle lane."

My life as "trophy boyfriend"

Has largely been quite poor,

But threatened legal changes

Mean trouble is in store.

My mistress and her lawyers

Wait gleaming by the door...

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