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Duke Orphan Condo Not Dozens Extremist Daring Smuggler Bonus
I switch on and immerse myself:
Invite a duke into my livingroom,
Care deeply about some poor orphan
(Who doesn’t exist)
Watch as some rich person
Swithers over which condo
They’ll pick, featuring many
Fantastic ‘mod-cons’.
I am not looking (on purpose)
At dozens of children
Lying in squalor
Far too sick to move;
Or watching the fall-out
From shelling and conflict,
Extremist values –
Or those buried in earth.
I open my purse-strings,
I sob at the images –
Praise the daring heroes
Of first-aid and food! –
But go back to tall stories
Of some sneaky smuggler,
While cuddling my offspring
Safe: bonus of locale.
There are things I would change about the above.
The first is that the generated words actually say ‘riot’ as the fourth word but, as it was pretty small on my screen, I unfortunately read it as ‘not’ and have only just realised while typing this post up *slaps forehead* it would have fitted in quite nicely, too…
Secondly, I don’t like the first eight lines. The next two stanzas have a rhythm, dammit, and the first one doesn’t but I ran out of time ☹
The last line jars me, as well.
But the poem outlines how I’m feeling. I have watched the whole of the first series of Fringe in the last week, flirted with a few episodes of Downton Abbey, and have now moved on to re-watching Angel, all because sitting in front of the news is far too much wincing reality to take at the moment!
What are you making of it all? Am I the only one who wishes she could just keep the kids in some bubble of protection (with a library), and maybe hang out with hubby in there too?!
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