Poem: The Mushroom Men


Have you seen The Mushroom Men?

They come out each night at half-past ten,

Spreading spores from their stores of spores

To furnish the fens with fungi galore!


They have a secret kingdom beneath the earth,

A place of mycelia, merriment, and mirth,

And once the stars a-shining they see,

Thence begins their mycological jamboree!


Through the use of their mycelial magic,

They spread toadstools, molds, jellies, and brackets,

And ‘twould be considered a sartorial mishap,

If an imp were withouten a handsome ink-cap!


So, let the fungal festivities begin!

Angels of Decay ushering happiness in,

These cancerous mushrooms will rise and rise,

Until they tower like mountains before our eyes,


Death-caps as large at the Taj Mahal –

Custardy molds consuming shopping malls –

(And since Donald Trump won the US election,

The White House also has a fungal infection!)


What a fine panorama atop this portabello!

From its summit I will bellow:


“Come out – come out – ye Mushroom Men!

Though it is not yet half-past ten,

We wish to look upon the overlords,

Who have, so thoroughly, transformed our world!”


Out will venture Oberon and Titania –

And Robin Goodfellow singing ‘Rule Britannia!’

With a charming procession of elves and fays,

Using shitake mushrooms as timpani


Enoki as mallets – and after a few psilocybin,

Soon this party will really be jiving!

Magonia and earth will be as one –

And we won’t stop dancing till Doomsday is done!


Alas! ‘Twas but a dream I’ve tried to relate

To you, dear reader, in poetic spates,

For now, their kingdom is still small;

But, if down the rabbit hole you’re willing to fall

We can grow great with The Mushroom Men,

And The Kings of Shambhala will rule again!



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