Vittorio Emanuele II turns in his grave
At the right royal turnout of riff-raff on his ‘corso’.
A fashion designer’s funeral collection is all the rage
As celebrity paparazzi police ferret out paparazzi lying low.
Obituary page bound,
A favourite 60’s Britpop star has just popped his clogs;
His life was mostly ups crossed by one terrible down.
Your average got lucky, got legless, then lost the use of ‘em Joe Bloggs.
Inside out, the sandwich-board loudspeaker self-publicists
Get it off their chests with megamouths to match,
As upside down big-top amateur pavement parachutists
Get penalised for having no-one there ready to catch.
Even so, the irate whistle-happy tramp, in his heaven knows how he got it traffic-warden’s uniform,
Wastes his breath cautioning all and sundry.
Whereas he’s found his paradise in an inferno of car engines and car horns
That’s not my cup of tea.
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Author: aprettykettleofpoetry
