Pause For Poetry:
Michael Hawkes /83
What’s It Coming To
A poem by Michael Hawkes
The jester can no longer jest,
Not even at his lord’s behest;
His puns take on a morbid tone,
His humour makes the ladies groan.
He plays with themes of war and gore
And jokes about the scenes he saw
Just there outside the palace gate;
The human bodies worn and torn
Consumed by fear and raging hate.
The court assumes he’s lost his head.
The king confines his clown to bed.
Beelzebub’s attorney quit.
He’d advocate with charm and wit,
But when the devil gave him shit
He took it as a sign to split.
Now without an advocate
Old Satan stands alone
Using scorn and spite and hate
To keep him on his devil’s throne.
The poets’ licenses ran out
When censors started pouring in,
Condemning what’s been written about
While labelling rhyme a mortal sin.
So now a lot of poets pout
And throw away the evidence;
Which explains the rising doubt, about everything
And the dearth of common sense.
’Tho if you still want alternative news
With answers questioned in reviews,
You only need to peek inside
To find some truth they couldn’t hide.
8/03/24 – Hawkes
Feature image: Jan Matejko, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
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