boka beaucoup

Twas such a good time
I was one
of the three blind mice
the others being
my lackey and she
now there is
a pair of eyes for the three of us
and woe be to it
whenever she is seeing
the flunkeys asking
too many questions
to say nothing of me
or when I’m using the device


What use is mine
Saying anything to you
Either you are not loud enough
Or I think you are too loud
So we communicate by signs
And for that are anything but primitive
You should hear some of that poetry
See some of those paintings
When it seems someone is listening
We even begin speaking for everybody
So yes we also have politics
There is nothing we can’t do
What use is mine
Saying anything to you


I’m the lord of small causes
Of the stable boy, of the horses
That have bolted
I’m the lord who inhabits
The floors above
I feed the cats and wag the dogs
Partial to appeal suited to my moods
Of what beasts want
I give them more in small doses
My resources are limited
And my justice cold
To the world at large
I mean nothing at all
They know not my worship
I know not their woes


We’ll know what we’ve done
Yet we’ll never say it’s too late
Having wasted it all
We’ll say there’s yet a battle left
And in hope was the war won
In hope we lost our all
But then too remained redemption
That champion quality to negate
Criminal excess or loss due to inaction