The Biscuit Tin
The biscuit tin is empty
There is mudcake on the floor
The Queen of Hearts is dying
What are they living for?
wishing wells of pennies,
or houses made of wood?
-a dance or three with peglegs:
How can that be any good?
Piglets no longer go to market
No one thinks to live life in a shoe,
the cow can’t jump the moon any more
And hayfever killed off Little Boy Blue.
Retreat for treats of pudding and pie
Maddona kissed the girls and made them cry
And little Mary Quite Contrary
watched how your gardens grew, filled
with exploded shells and corpses lain out in rows.
Retreat retreat for humble pie
Simple Simon had your number from day one
and in caskets, blackbirds muster’d the cloudless sky
For Humpty dumpty was an only one.
My oh my, a right princess Miss Muffet grew to be
and while we weren’t looking,
the Owl & Pussycat drowned at Sea
so now, the biscuit tin is empty
and the mudcake on the floor
crumbles in our fingers,
What are we looking for… ?
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
from “Falling Slowly” (2010)
This is for Mike Essig in response to Recent Headlines From SNS (Surrealist News Service)