Poet Authority Poem Terminal

No one noticed this.

Liz Truss jabbed vaguely at dates on her futuristic calendar,

Then I was ready for my big day (writing this).

I couldn't help but smile.

I thought about Liz's words (not that one - unless you're thinking of the other one).

I thought about his giant fountain of wealth.

I thought about how one day that would dribble its way down to me.

I penned a letter to a bank.

Set about getting a mortgage with the crown on his shelf.

Pedalled all the way to Daisy's house.

To put that in to perspective,

With a brisk cycle,

Her house was over 12 hours away.

Daisy had gone away on holiday.

But Mike lacked the resources to learn this information.

For example, he had forgotten his phone.

So he ended up waiting a week for her to get home.

He was weak by the time she arrived.

Didn't smell great either.

Worst of all,

He could barely even keep up with the conversation,

And didn't seem at all interested in what she'd got up to in Malta.

Despite lacking the sort of qualifications required,

Keith set about building a submarine.

After several days he took his creation to an ocean.

Plopped it in and quickly learned it would sink.

This seemed ideal, because submarines do that.

But the reason it sank is because it took on too much water.

And Keith was in there so he wasn't enjoying the experience as much as he hoped.

The ducks quacked.

I'm fairly sure one of them said "cunt".

That's a bad word.

I frowned at the duck.

A postman returned to his job.

He pulled the first letter from his pouch,

Stroked the stamp,

Wept so heavily that he drowned in his own tears.

A replacement postman was deployed.

He fished the letters from the lake of tears,

Learned they were all water damaged,

No longer worth delivering.

The Queue died.

A tremendous sadness drenched the country.

Unease plunged itself into the population.

The Queue's subjects scattered,

They wandered lost and alone.

Eventually forming into smaller,

More tribal queues.

If they weren't queuing they were complaining.

Ultimately the Queen was doing her usual,

Keeping the nation happy.

King Prince Charles snarled,

Even dead she'd find ways to ruin things for him.

Things were becoming unruly.

"Take it off! Take it off!"

It felt a bit inappropriate.

But it was hard to blame them.

We were all curious if she was really in there,

And these clowns had queued for miles for a glimpse.

Miriam charged to the back of the queue.

She couldn't get enough of it.

The flag draped box,

Enthralling.

Brian laid the trap.

Caught the mouse humanely.

They travelled together,

To a dense forest,

Where matters would be concealed.

He motioned towards his feet.

A scowl filled the room.

The motion came yet again.

Servants scrambled to his aid.

They hauled his left foot forward.

Followed, of course, by his right.

More servants were on hand to hold him upright.

King Prince Charles beamed.

He was walking! 

He did his stamp pose,

And then his coin pose.

He tried to make the coin pose a bit rounder,

Hoped it would fit in better.

"I think they'll probably just use the same one"

Up piped Camilla.

King Prince Charles scowled.

He motioned towards his crown,

From which some of the Queen's fingers still dangled,

Dared her to utter another word.

A shocked nation.

I went to Sainsbury's or Tesco or Marks and Spencer,

Or something like that for a meal deal.

Possibly Lidl if they do them there.

Anyway, once inside of those supermarkets I inspected the offerings.

They didn't have ham and cheese.

I only like ham and cheese.

I settled for less to stave starvation.

Selected my crisps and drink,

Apple juice, if that's an option.

I paid,

Departed with my meal deal,

Travelled on my wheel(s),

To eat my sandwich,

On a bench in Greenwich.

The replacement reported back,

It was a success!

The shy guy informed the woman of a big surprise for their next meeting.

Phillip Something and Holly Whateverby stood astride their magic wheel.

They engaged with some common lad.

The banter was intense.

He was tremendously poor and used words they didn't quite understand.

Phillip repeatedly piped up, asking if any cars could be traded in,

Explained how that could raise some much needed funds.

The lad would be spinning for a chance to operate his kettle twice per day.

Phillip took charge of his wheel.

Flexed his daytime television muscles.

Offered a mighty tug to send the prizes spinning.

The free kettle tickets whirled upon their wheel.

Clacking by the pointer of success.

Phillip's excitement was palpable.

He slapped his paws together.

Two free kettle uses per day!

Unbelievable!

He hoped to arrange a murdering.

The target would be none other than Hank McCoy.

But Hank McCoy had also joined the gang,

So York had to pick somebody else.

I gave one of those fortune tellers a whirl.

She kept plucking the wrong cards from her deck.

Refusing to give me what I wanted.

She learned her crystal ball would be going for a trip across the room unless we went again.

We spent hours digging through her silly little cards.

Getting things in order.

His landing was padded by a selection of other bodies.

Dimitri brushed himself off and went on with his day.

Figures overhead gestured towards another window.

Prepped Plan B.