Robert’s Poem Corner: Ode To Nick Clegg

A nobody. A wraith.
A puff of smoke.
A haze. A suggestion of a man.
A man’s face, then the face of a wasp.
Then not a face at all. A SodaStream.
No, it is a man. Then formless again.

A name?
What do you call mist?
What do you call a plap?
What name is given
To an unmemorable flumph?
James Something?
No. That’s not it.
Charles Kennedy?
No, that was the last one.
Wasn’t that the old one?
Oh, thingy. Yes.
James Something?
A mist, a plap, a flumph, a flegh.

Then, the talking started
The glamour and the lights
The TV shows
The three wee crows
And the formless started to speak
“HERE THEY GO AGAIN”
It said
“NUTTERS”
It said
Two wee crows squawked
“I agree with James Something”
The mist became a wasp
became a SodaStream
Became a man
Became a giant
Became a giant centaur
“I AM NICK CLEGG”
He screamed.

The world said
NICK CLEGG
A child’s first utterance
NICK CLEGG
On every gravestone
NICK CLEGG
An amusing talking dog
NICK CLEGG
Not really talking, barking
To be honest
NICK CLEGG

The man-thing
Striding across the world
His yellow flag waving
It is Nick Clegg
Hope in his hair
Change under his fingernails

I STAND ALONE!
He screamed
THE OLD POLITICS IS DEAD!
He screamed
IT’S NOT AN AMNESTY, EXACTLY
He screamed
And the world moved with him
Under him
Like a giant fourth testicle
Yes, for he has three
Two full of sperm
One full of change
It jingles as he strides above us

The fateful day arrived
And the roaches scurried
From their holes (houses)
To the Destiny Chamber
(Polling Station)
There they would kneel down
For this three testicled centaur of change
This Nick Clegg
But they sort of forgot
To

The Cleggtaur sits now
Brooding in the darkness
Surrounded by evil
Unsure
Of what the future should hold
Or even what
Colour of tie is appropriate