LIII: And there shall descend upon us the Last Great Instagram / rendering through a series of divine filters / that the heavenly host of engineers didst graciously build for us / one final, shining / profile defining / End of Time line / when all the images the dead have taken / will instantly be downloaded upon their awakening / and they shalt hold them up proudly in their phalangeal hands / and stand / for one last panoramic shot / on the slowest & widest setting God has got / and he shalt say thanks a lot / that’ll get me some hits / one more for safety and then that’s it / and great shall be the tumult across the land / and many followers shall be lost / and many smartphones smartly tossed / from the boatman’s boat when the moat is crossed / when the boatman shall laugh / most hammily & uncannily from the pointy end of the craft / at the most photogenic moment / (these things are important)
so endeth lesson three
sad emoji

once upon a crime…

I was given a test / I hadda chaperone the Capo’s princess / but I have to confess / as princesses go she was one priceless mess / in distress / in dis dress / so frocked up you’d never guess / where the princess endses and the big pink dress commenses / I mean – sure, she was gorgeous & glamorous / fifteen kindsa fabulous / but I tink the problem was she was ravenous / because they told her not to eat for about a minute / so they might have a chance to squeeze her in it / but despite the lack of a meatball sub / a pint of coke and a fro-yo tub / there was still no doubt about it / shit / no way was this thing gonna fit /

fuggedaboutit

so wha’d’ya gonna do? / the ditzy dame was through / givin’ it the big boo-hoo / a diva on a divan / sitting on her can / callin’ every goombah an also ran

then the carriages start to arrive / this pink-finned cadillac parks up outside / hooting its hooter / the chauffeur / a small time booster / name of Dylan the Rooster / on account of all the colourful suits and feathers / he wears in all kindsa weathers / and all the lay-lady-lays he likes / from Brooklyn Heights to the New Jersey turnpike / you bitches better get me ready / wails the princess sitting up, shakin’, unsteady / teary and bleary / her makeup all scary and smeary / of course says the maids / looking somewhat afraid / and I must confess / standing back from alla this? / I was too / I couldn’t see a way through / it’d take more than crystal pumps and a sequin shawl / to make this princess bell a’ the ball

but what could I do? / I’m strictly crew
I don’t got no fashion sense / the shoes I use are usually cement

so anyways / the maids / run around like mices / improvisin’ all kindsa clothing devices / and they forms a line to tighten the corset / and a’course it rips the moment they force it / spilling da princesses onto the flooring / where she rolls around roaring / then suddenly outs with this thing / a smart lil’ snub nose piece / she borrowed off her niece / and stuffed in the garter behind her knees / shooting whatever gets in her sights / paintings, statues, fancy lights / because this hotel pad’s pretty bling / or was till she shot up every damned thing / the mirror, the sofa / a taxidermy gopher / everything royally blown & plugged / with random slugs / the silver coffee jug / jumping & spattering / the chandelier shattering / dropping and scattering / till the princess is spent like the gun and knows it / violently throws it / sprawls face down on the bed / feathers flying up around her head / while I creeps slowly outta the closet / wondering how we gonna gets back the deposit

honey – it’s okay / I say / you don’t need to take on this way / the ball isn’t all it’s cracked up to be / the odds look pretty stacked to me / I tell ya what / why’n we go down the road for a spot? / jes’ you and me? / jeans and a T / treat’s on me / c’mon honey / forget the Rooster / he’ll get used ta’ / the idea / an’ disappear / when I make it clear / what needs to be happenin’ here

the princess comes round to my way of thinking / an hour later we’re in a dive bar drinking / throwing back shots and fistfuls of nuts / and we’re there till six when the bar finally shuts / and I take her back to the Capo’s palace in the heights / where he says did the ball work out alright / yeah she says papa it really did / an’ I owe it all to the Pumpkin Kid / and the Capo plants a kiss on my cheeks / says that’s the best news he got all week / there’s nothing means more than my princesses happinesses / fuggedaboutit I say with a grin / sleepily scratching my chin / but you want my advice? / hire yourself a couple more mice

life’s like a high dive from a board
the crowd applauds
you do two pikes and a half tuck
hit the water slick as a duck
the judges deliberate
you score an eight
(all done scientifically:
aggregate score over degree of difficulty)

‘Who’s that trip-trip-trapping over my bridge?’
snarls a troll
with a twitch
and a shout
leaping up and out
onto the decking
fully expecting
to be collecting
his toll

‘It is I, PR Goat Gruff’
says a goat, looking glam
in the medallion of a ram
an astrakhan coat
and other things of equal note
his hooves covered in glittery tat
his horns pushed up through his bowler hat

‘I’ll gobble you up!’ snarls the troll
suddenly not looking certain at all
scratching his head, his arse,
‘I’m not supposed to let anyone past!’
‘Love it! Adorable!’ says PR goat.
‘You totally get my vote.
You’ve got a job and you do it.’
The troll shrugs
gives his wig a tug
‘I get through it
Some days better than others.
But I’ve got this fetish about udders.’
‘Let’s stroll’
says the goat
leading the troll
over the moat
to the other side
where the goat confides
about politics & exit polls
banknotes & boltholes
security files & payrolls
loopholes, media controls
and the dead sea scrolls
‘where my Ts and Cs are writ!’
laughs the goat, quite a bit
‘What?’ says the troll, not getting it

Fast forward three goat years
The troll appears
in parliament
leader of the government
‘Friends! Goats! Countrymen!’ he roars
as troll police lock all the doors
and he grabs the parliamentary mace
swinging it about the place
‘Whoever crosses me gets THIS in the face!’
‘That’s my troll!’ smiles PR goat
then exits down the Thames in a boat