Poem: As You Like It

rosalind

Sleeping drunk under a bridge

The night sands caressing my face

The disco dancers are still about

Roaring against rhythms that should destroy them

But only give them more power

I watched the seagulls circumambulate the sun

In a disorderly procession

Against which their shrieks were rung

This is not a lyric ballad

But the last desperate jottings

Of a lovelorn tramp

Catapulting himself over furniture

In riverside taverns

Like a peacock of the night

I glitter and gleer

Unleashing my tail feathers

Faces all around detonate with delight

Every dartboard becomes a kaleidoscope

And the jukebox a sacred transmitter

Through which the Words of God are heard

But God is a cross-dresser

Like a Shakespearian heroine

She disguises herself as a handsome boy

But is happy to get her tits out

If she thinks it’ll do her any favours

“I’ll give you Ten Commandments

If you’ll give me ten lashings on the bum!”

She proposes, with a lurid wink

But, of course, she’s just as drunk as I am

How else could she have made me

Without falling into my fermented pisspot?

Or pulling up the wine of truth

From a fountain so deep?

Ah, Rosalind, you saucy Pagan romancer!

Won’t you banish yourself from your court

To get lost in my ghastly wood?

It would be awfully good if you would!

I’ll twinkle gently as the spaceship lands

For I’m going home tomorrow

To find the barroom in the stars

 

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