This poem, titled Vocation, was originally published on Cafe Dissensus Everyday.
Drifting summer sands of the Canyon That enrapture grand minds Are worth five minutes of our time Because the tour bus is setting sail. No don’t wail. At least our cameras are crammed. Satiate your self-pity with knowledge Of inevitable envy from Followers and frenemies Whose green eyes shall bleed when they see Those sandy triangle rock thingies Backdrop to beaming selfies.
In the frigid museum That wily old man whose whites for eyes Mockingly rolled inside a lifeless mind Was object to ogling loafers – Palms clutching audio tour guides, Bones covered in woollen sheepskin. To them, compared to other busts He looked as alike as their kin. “Pretty locks of hair,” the extent of praise Before one of the herd ambled away And like magnets others chose to stray. Their one-eyed eye on art lied compliments Before compliance permitted them to part. They left, leaving Odysseus alone Mouth agape and aghast.
Quit wailing! Daddy did not muster enough pennies To fill our bellies and take us on trips To places society says are the best For you vain-headed kids to complain That our vacation has turned Burdensome and lame. I suggest don’t dare stand in the way Of quality family time. For all I care Stuff this authentic taco Down your whining windpipe And try to gasp in the culture Gift-wrapped by waiters and simpering guides Within one night.
Make it snappy, since the schedule demands A good night’s rest in time For tomorrow’s circus fest Which you cloud-headed farts Cannot be too knackered for. Don’t forget, from midnight till four A TripAdvisor hipster called This city a sea of muggers and gamblers We must evade like the plague to survive.
Moments after they left, the place came alive.
Date of publication: 11 October 2020
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