Thursday, 2 May 2013

© The Plagiariser

© The Plagiariser

Are any thoughts original?
This intellectual miser, has Shakespeare turning in his grave
And am I none the wiser?
I trawl through texts, devoid of sex
And contemplate the geyser, of random intellectualism,
I am the Plagiariser.

Post-modernism at its worst,
This ruthless two-leg spider spins a web of counterfeit –
Beware the advertiser!
I work the crowd, who talk too loud,
Contaminate the Kaiser abandoned in his counting house,
I am the Plagiariser.

Did Marlowe just in-jest the Bard?
Or does it taste like Bacon?
Usurp the work of Marx, Foucault…a sprinkling of Lacan.
Aboard the train, here’s Emu Plains! Graffiti becomes higher…
Art? I doubt it – seen before.
Despair the Plagiariser.

Has romance sunk to Mills and Boon?
The Lady Chatterley Choir, sings…
Just slightly out of tune,
“Oh kiss me Oliver” – “Hire!”
Screams the bus conductor,
“Do Little!” retorts Eliza, “I danced all night with G.B.S.”
Et tu the Plagiariser.

© James Craib, September 2004.

No comments:

Post a Comment