Roundelay for the Dickless Wonders

Dickless Wonders, wonder on
As we dance your head upon
What the hell is going on?

In the better restaurants
Where gather both brokers and their servant quants
The fear is palpable indeed
Could the jig be up on fear and greed?

Dickless Wonders, wonder on
As you sing the death song of the swan
Honking tunelessly: it ain’t your dawn

Fee fi fo fum
You smelled the blood of an English “mun”
Predatory credit offered to the desperate
False hope and lies, you dirty rat

Dickless Wonders, wonder on
You are men of sin: we’ll never fawn
Upon your false wisdom and your filthy lies
You murder what you touch you kill surprise

Fee fi fo groan
She cannot pay her student loan:
So she puts on her dancing shoes
The loser wins and the bankers lose!

Dickless wonders, wonder on
Why there’s no payments on the loan
Or maybe why I am able to
Either way, the world made new

You wanted to be the first mover
Of all women, the unflagging lover:
But how does it feel to be the loser
Your bespoke is sticky it needs a cleaner.

O Dickless Wonders, wonder on
Your Brooks Brothers suit has been spat upon
Out damn’d spot, down o Dog
Someone’s stolen your London Fog

You thought to be Uranus, old gods
Up your ass you silly sods:
You are Saturn eating his kid
A bundle of greed unholy id

Dickless Wonders, wonder on
Limbaugh rants we but yawn
The well funded hysteria of the Tea Bags
Is defeated by a buncha “fags”

You took away their microphone
To silence them you did dispone:
But in the silence came a Voice
By your Petard shall ye be hoist.

Dickless Wonders, wonder on:
As you gaze upon your filth strewn Pond:
You are mad and crazy and you are fond:
If you think we gonna pay that “bond”.

You marshaled marching morons who cudn’t evenn spel
To further your goal: to make this happy earth thy hell
Hark, the dark angel! Ding dong bell:
Raving men with a pedophiliac glitter in their eye
Hungry hags havering with havoc
Mad men with the universal solution and panacea.
You had your Tea Party and we had a laugh
The people now awake, go slaughter a calf.

Dickless Wonders, wonder on
As you rage in throes of death
The matador I! Come on!
You have money I have breath.

Edward G. Nilges 9 Oct 2011. Moral rights have been asserted. Nyah nyah.

The image is world-historical because that damned bull has been on Wall Street since the Eighties, since the time when My Generation has had to struggle to fund lives of a small amount of beauty, truth and fun by selling our soul to the devil.

The bull said “I AM CULTURE I AM ART YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A FART” But Antigone, Cordelia, Rosalinde hasn’t got the email so she mounts it. The rapist Jove is raped in turn, and Europa has the last laugh: you shall not destroy Greece, and turn the Acropolis into a theme park, especially NOT for a bunch of cabbage eating Krauts, can you dig it…

I could have drawn that image since my latest work has been haunted by the idea of representing new life by young gals dancing. Which is pretty lame as an idea, redeemable only by my graceful line you ask me. But in all sincerity I honor whoever cooked up that image. It is Picasso’s Minotauromachia, in which the young peasant girl lifts the lamp of laughter and of light. It is also like Italian anti-fascist posters.

Dang, this is theater…the nice old couple, who met at a commune and is now up to their ass in debt, see their daughter, lost Perdita, tap dancing on the bull. O brave new world indeed.

Capitalism has turned on civilization. The image is the answer. My poem as a roundelay is intended merely to be very annoying, because a roundelay keeps repeating the central idea, even as the protestors replaced the microphone with the voice, repeating the lesson.

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