I bought it as a three-for-two;
It slumped into my skull,
Thrust the furniture askew
And made the whole world dull.
But duller than the world outside
Was the smaller world beneath my hat,
As dumbly glumly stultified
As any sportsman gone to fat.
Thus the empire of the dull
Expands to conquests ever duller,
Till all of life's forever null,
Devoid of any spark or colour.
And I am turned respectable,
My very rage is turned to beige,
And nothing is delectable,
Within this blandly tasteful cage.
If you've any comment on these poems, George Simmers would be pleased to hear from you.