On a front-row-center throne
The Would-be King relaxes.
Besides him rests his Lady-Queen
In tsunamis of green satin.
He’s enjoying all the accolades
In the Hallowed Halls of drama
Surrounding their appearance,
Where the monkey trio entertains
And fashion marches to and fro
Clutching heavy bits of tinsel.
All is merriment and joy
Until the Jester makes a jape
That earns a queenly frown
Which stirs the King to wipe his smile
And stalk onto the dais
Where he
slaps
the Jester on his cheek,
And wearing traces of a smirk
Marches back down to his throne.
The Jester lofts a lame response
Into a sea of stunning silence
Then the air turns shades of Royal blue
And American TVs go deaf
For thirty-seven seconds
While across the seas the
Audience enjoys the
Braying of a *******.
Believing he’s impervious
Or maybe he is Sampson
The King pulls down the ancient walls
Of cherished film tradition
Reducing what was dignified
To a rank back alley rumble
Then later makes a fake obeisance
Awash with phony tears and snot.
All hail the King of Hollywood
They should take back his golden prize
To penalize his hubris -
And let him know rules still apply.
And cause some real tears in his eyes.
ljm
What do you say to such monumental arrogance?
(Why didn't this post day before yesterday when I first put it up?)