The Spoonbill Generator

Perpetual Nestled Teacups

It's not my cup of tea

Or even my piece of toast

Still and all I love to think,

That gravy is the finer drink

That makes me dance with glee

The wrong side of the bed

I'm standing on my head,

Still and all I love to see

Your alabaster effigy

It's not the time of day,

Nor yet my part in life

Still and all I love to watch

Your alabaster wife

It's not that I'm in love,

For my thoughts are far above

From her plinth I turn my gaze

towards your now ebony wife.

I see now through my haze.

Through eyes bedimmed by rheum

That truth was really far from clear

and I am truly crazed!

And etched about with gloom

I glance about the room

Determined not to faint

She comes to me with sissors raised

And quite the bloody picture paints!

Enough! Enough! I cry in pain

Before my sternum splinters!

I'll just inject this in my vein

And freeze a thousand winters

...and now I sip my tea

Strew rushes on the floor

The rats waltz in and strip my fin,

And taunt my dead macaw

Oh joy! This IS my piece of toast!

And this, my missing tooth!

My eyes have cleared, I've trimmed my beard

And I've regained my youth!

It's not my cup of tea

but still and all I say,

Was it all real, or was it false?

Won't know till my dying day.

Contributors: Linda, P, Stacy, Roland, TG, KD, Bop, Stokely, Zsa, Kent, Joe Papp.
Poem finished: 10th March 1997.