Grimbeau

What will Monday bring?
Screaming abdabs in my pants

Tinkerbell was furious
Cursed her lucky star & turned over to seethe
‘We are sorry to hear
of your miserable existence
and insist you contact a higher authority—
Yours Faithfully, Walt’

Talk to Mickey Mouse himself,
Up close and personal
There might be something doing
Perhaps a letter, a formal request
To talk it over, chew the cud
About the good old days

Before animation came to a sticky one
Stole away our childhood anarchy
privatised collective conchshellnes
Personified Vietnam a glitch
Seen Through GI Gilmore’s peepers
In the Jungle Book of Life

Apocalypse Now & again builds zilch!
Was justice a matter of time
After masque pastiche, rehash
Hanging out dirty washing
Computer generated egos
Optical soma catatonics

bLack Monday sods all
comers peering through the murk
waiting ante post—
traumatic stress disorder decides
on own chosen course
indigence proceeds apace
regular beatings infrequent due to staff deficiencies·
still there’s always clear and present danger to fall back on
when all else has failed·
industrial action once promised never threatens