The Mid-Atlantic Ridge

All is well,
on the mid-Atlantic ridge,

My feet dangle from the clock tower,
And brush against the bridge.

It’s just gone 10.30
And the air carries spice,

But the marketplace is crawling,
With cockroaches and lice.

The snakes are feeding mullets,
With strawberry jam on bread,

While the sharks are munching
on grass and cabbage heads.

Noses bleed and ears swell,

The town crier is choking,
on a cracked sea shell.

The jester is constipated,
with ditties and dance,

The King has gone ahead,
And taken a hen to his bed.

The Duke and the Duchess conspire,
To attire the pigpen in gold,

While, the Queen and her Ladies retire
To their private wallpapered hell.

The knights are in pink,
The peasants in blue,

The Cook and the stable boy,
Are jousting with cues.

The wool has shrunk on the sheep,
And they gag on the grass.

The frogs in the audience
demand an encore,

The geese and the chickens
stomp their feet on the floor.

The conductor’s insane,
The orchestra’s gone mad,

Playing the same three notes,
over and over, and over again.

The cockroaches and lice
in the marketplace,

Are doing the tango
in front of the mice.

It’s just gone midnight
and midday all told,

The town crier collapses
in spasm and dream,

Where sharks chase mice
And cats swim laps,

Redheads are blonde
And brunettes are dead.


The rabbits and hares,
in collusion with swine,

Fill condoms for the party
with strawberry wine,

The cows are waltzing
with udders exposed,

While the bulls learn to knit,
wearing pantyhose,

While the King and his hen
Doze off and snore,

The Queen wallpapers
The ceiling and floor.

The knights retire
To practice their jousts,

The peasants inquire
About the price of moon-dust,

The merchant keeps stock
To sell, lease or rent,

For the wealthy and needy,
For the straight and the bent.

So what!! that the Lion is gay
Moon-dust on his mane,

His pride all in tatters,
Standing off to the side,

Red claws, red lips,
Bells, tinsel and glint.

Marsupials and mammals
hide behind wall panels,

Reptiles in sunglasses
Chase donkeys with molasses,

Zebras in g-strings,
Decorate the walls,

The ladies in waiting,
Attend the Kings calls.

The Queen and the Bishop,
Are consorting in bed,

While the parrots and toucans,
Sing of love overhead.

Snails slide of roof tiles,
And somersault to earth,

The swine have turned to drink,
The policemen to crime,

The lawyers are silent,
And mime mimics mime.

The valet parks pumpkins,
The cook chops trees, carriages and chairs,

Birds fly north for the winter,
Fish swim south for the summer,

Whales take to the East,
The sharks filter west,

The Ridge has gone quiet,
For a well-earned rest.

© 2005, 2017 Lusha Hood, all rights reserved

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