They’ve Learned I Cock A Snoot

Where were the Philistines today? I must
have missed their bold parade along the
cobbled street of commerce; I didn’t get
a fleeting greeting, cheery smile or wave.

That I never did would seem a blessing in
the dress of studied ignorance, they stare
with steely eyes disguised like watchers for
calamity – poised to warn their chary peers.

And yet I send them messages of hope and
derring-do, riddles with a cheery ring, inspiring
them with classic tales of profits earned from
stirring trade and news of heady fiscal flings.

Seems they’ve learned I cock a snoot, take a
boot to cerebral pursuits they revel in, parody
their artistry in general trade and joke about their
cultured links to a stock exchange of ignorance.

I’d need to make my poetry appear a ledger
entry rhymed with care at each line’s end in
columns trimmed and figured sweet to show
a sterling profit – and all of this toute suite!
© 29 May 2007, I.D. Carswell