It hung in a room,
In Pursuit of Beauty.
The name says it all:
Male artists, women’s bodies.
Our attention had been
It was taken down last Friday
And not replaced:
An artistic act to provoke debate.
There are other works
In the basement, too.
It’s about the stories
Postcards will no longer
be sold in the shop.
The green woodpecker; it seems aptly named.
As green as a lime, or so it is claimed.
And incessentaly pecking at the first glimpse of dawn.
But what lovely treats lurk there on the lawn?
I feel sorry for ants, I do have to say,
Just going to work at the start of their day.
On a march to some sugar scouted in a bin,
When a flying jade-terror from the heavens swoops in.
Peck—there goes one! Peck-peck and two more,
But an ant isn’t wooden—that’s simply the law.
Who named this menace? They must make amends
For so cruelly misleading our poor insect friends.
Why should a woodpecker really peck at ants?
Surely a tree—those most woody of plants.
Or perhaps at a shed—would that be a good’n?
A little dry, maybe, but at least it is wooden.
Not that I blame our green friend in the least:
For indulging at breakfast in its acidic feast—
Just doing her thing lacking reason or rhyme,
Blameless in this nomenclatural crime.
becoming a superstate
aims to unify
efforts to dominate
unify the continent
golden age of the romans
various people tried
it ends tragically
the idea of europe
there is no single authority
failure is a national scandal
work halted because exclusion zone
work cannot continue
one blow after another
a demolition technique
standing remnants fall away
on behalf of families
is currently considered unstable, sadly
a national scandal
hang on to hope
now we just hope