Poetry Hallway - Limpit Smike Sounds Off

So, friends, what's another year, to someone who's lost everything that he owns? You might well ask. But here comes 2018, ready to put a further boot in whilst we shiver and shake in the cold room. This chilly extractor fan blast following that heavy, low-hanging, fart of a year doesn't really lend itself to reflection - we just want to pack up our genitals and run. Long-time collaborator and excremental badger Limpit Smike is going further than most, as he's decided to emigrate. He's getting in his retaliation first. What could go wrong?

An old Concorde, courtesy
of Andy for MoMoJaJa.

One Widdled From A Great Height by Limpit Smike


One day, I shall come back.
In my Rolls-Royce.
Yes, one sorry (really not sorry) day,
I shall return, from… Australia, say;
California – no – South Africa;
The champagne tastes so much sweeter down there.
The peasants shall raise their mud-streaked faces
And gasp at my lavish gold bootlaces;
As I gaze mocking at the old places.
They shall cry: “Limpit, take me when you go!”
And I, imperious, shall sneer a “No.”
My Rolls-Royce fits only me and my beau;
He enters more snugly than they could know.