No Accounting
The Jag is in the driveway
behind the iron gates,
the home was christened "My-Way"
(he who loses hesitates)
All the frills are garish
from The Pillars to The Pool,
the gothic-faux nightmarish
its rendition most uncool.
The topiary is phallic
it's freudiently flawed,
the colour palette so manic
passing psychopaths applaud.
A bronze eagle guards the doorway
it's talons dipped in gold,
Munch's art screams in the hallway
a fucking car-crash to behold.
A kaleidoscope of carnage
a tragedy of taste,
like a turd that can't be varnished
or a Henry Moore defaced.
Audio and video available at link below
https://wolfgarwords.com/2024/11/04/no-accounting/
https://www.youtube.com/@DavidRLMoore/videos
David RL Moore
Fri 8th Nov 2024 06:24
Thanks for the new likes and to Martin for his comments.
David RL Moore