A party political broadcast from Mount Olympus |
A British Tragedy In the shadows prowls Cerberus Schizophrenic in the dark One head yellow, one head blue The other red, with contrasts stark At least that’s how it used to be When it took its rightful place An imperfect flawed security To guard the mortal human race Till Poseidon washed the colours out Ran and merged them into one Leaving Hades gates in doubt And Ares marching at a run Three heads too busy squabbling To see the sins that they have done Silver pieces crossing paws Claws now rendered dull and blunt Against the rigours of this world Gainst bigger, fatter cats than them Scratching posts that now they serve Titans that they now defend With mortals in a Gorgons gaze With apathetic skins of stone A golden fleece to warm the rich To keep them living, flesh and bone With Cerberus not standing guard The Hydra takes its fateful call Heads claim independent cards Yet the serpent’s party bodies all As Sirens sing to lull us in To press us with their news print songs Pegasus? They clipped his wings Our route to freedom, cantered, gone And the Minotaur, he trawls the maze For those who fight, who yet still see Cyclops imprisoned in their cage Achilles heeled at their knee And all the while Titans clash The Krakens called from where it lays Whirlpools swallow land and sea The Argonauts, they take their place Amidst the swirls, red, yellow, blue A turgid mix that spirals down And Cerberus still takes his cue Bickering ‘tween throne and crown |