the weekly

Dead Man Talking

I thought that I was dodo-dead,
Beyond where life or thought is;
I thought that, should I go to bed,
I'd wake with rigor mortis.
On funeral forms, my name was inked –
But now I find I'm not extinct.

I thought they'd punctured my balloon,
And blown my final eggs –
But, drinking in Last Chance Saloon,
I see they've found some dregs.
Perhaps there is one ghostly roar
Left in this giant dinosaur.

I thought I was the question
To which there's no more answer,
A lemon, less than zesty, in
The bin. But, limbo-dancer,
I find that I've not crossed the Styx,
And haven't yet been knocked for six.

So, though I am half-stunned and see
How soon I may be trounced,
The news of my redundancy
Has not yet been announced:
Some say I'm sick, but I believe
That there is time for one more heave.

I thought that creature Cameron
Had zipped me in a bag,
Had sung my Götterdämmerung,
Had left me limp as rag.
Although the pollster's tongue is forkèd,
I'm Gordon Brown, the ghostly orchid.

Read the Guardian article here

Read Bill's 'Bill Posters' blog by clicking here

Dead Man Talking
Rare species such as the ghost orchid have been found to be clinging to existence. The polls narrowed between the Labour and Conservative parties.
9 March 2010


Home/Join | List | Next | Previous | Random