On a slightly lighter note than recent circumstances have permitted:–
Oh simple cylinder:
You have not changed; you are constant,
you are the brown paper bulwark I have always known;
unstamped, unnamed, unmottled;
you do not come in a fresh multitude of seasonal colours;
you have not been plasticised, imbued with essence of potpourri, lavender
or 16 other fresh new fragrances that will have my friends
wondering how they slipped behind in the racing cargo cult;
you do not offer coy shelter to special offers or once-in-a-lifetime opportunities
to scorch the planet in flight to ever more indistinguishable destinations.
Without fanfare or hesitation or hope of recognition,
you simply give invisible and unfailing support,
as do all the world’s real heroes.
Unwrapped and shredded on soil, you do not fight death
but yield perfectly to oblivion — or kindergarten craft.
You are neither new nor improved, your humility has not yet been torn
from you by the greed of others;
you are, without pretence, just perfect.
[this doesn't really work as a poem as the humour is trampled by earnestness, so it's posted as socioeconomic commentary!]
love it!
my thoughts entirely
the cat loves playing with them
marvellous gizmos to keep his mind off food
you’ll find them all over the floors, under all the furniture where they are just out of reach
friends are forever picking them up – unaware that they are Charlie’s’ toys – i can hear the noise it makes as it’s being tortured and flung about
an ode to the CTR – marvellous!
[...] dear. My resolve to try and keep this blog less earnest appears to be crumbling. Please skip to the loo roll item if you’re already having a bad day. In the meantime, here’s comment on an article by [...]