The tube train of desire it rumbles on
Through briefly lighted scenes of cool London
Oh, mind the gap in stepping through the doors
The train once left, will vanish, and be gone.
In walking homeward past the London Pubs
I heard some young binge-drinkers' "glubglubglubs"
I should perhaps have called the Daily Mail,
But editors, ‘fore this have drunk, and subs.
When life is neither hot, nor cold, but tense
To turn to wine is not a grave offence
Oh leave the talk of livers at the door
To live without despair's fair recompense.
Is this, we see, the universe entire
The sum and outgrowth of our soul’s desire?
Then best our soul were dumb and did not make
This lumpen world, where unfulfilled, I tire.
Do we know how and why where dark matter rules?
Or why dark energy, expansion fuels?
And yet we think we understand the world
Although of most of it, we are but fools.
The end will come and come as quite a shock
To cushion it, a Riesling or a hock
Or champagne or perhaps a pint or too
Who has died more: for staggering to the block?
The Secret Grail that many Templars sought
I found, and found its hidden virtue naught
Save that like any cup, it can hold wine
That bears me hence from any woes life taught.
At any party some hang on ‘til last
Quaffing ‘til host and hostess are aghast.
Others depart at leisure through that door
Which opens but one way, and then is past.
With all I strove to gain or tried to make
I bought but little peace for my mistake
Why did I sell the hours of sweet repose
To lease them back, in tea or coffee break?
Do not clutch baby sorrows to your breast
To grow and feed and cuckoo-kill the rest
But nurse and rock that infant called content
That runt needs every care to grow the best.
Simon BJ. after Omar K.