Playing the louche divertissement won’t make
the story-line more a conspiracy than the grey
tendentiously proffered puffery articulates; it is,
at best, a worn-out cliche, and all th' posturing
suggests they shouldn’t be onstage costuming
threadbare arguments: - there is just too much
revealed-rubbish scraping bottom-o’-th’-barrel
common-sense - and it wasn’t from our origins
But whence we came seems still t’ matter or, I
say it genteelly, there is belief in ‘Ancestry’ we
weren’t supposed t’ promulgate - it estranged
apparently; tho’ Jack’s th’ same as his master,
in truth, we’re poles apart, and that they claim
seems to be the whole of its treasonous plot
© 29 May 2018, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment