Abandoned by my parents here in the vortex of old age, I have discovered my once-wild imagination to be gone with the winds of time and tide, so I can only write about the things happening around me in the dry and dreary present.
Today, for the Steampunk prompt, I am introducing a minor flaw in the otherwise sterling character of my housemate and lifemate, my intrepid photographer and present (until he reads this) husband, Richard Schear. Unlike myownself, he has no middle name, nor nary a middle initial, so I have taken it upon my aforementioned self to give him one, and it shall be X for the purpose of my first Steampunk poem, presented below for your delectation:
is to me a person very, very dear,
but his interplanetary-wide reknown
is based upon a principle he found:
No matter how few do in a place reside,
it’s best to buy the food as for a pride
of lions, or a dozen men with brides
because the price of an individual item
is less than if he only buys just one of ’em.
went into the making of this theory,
so my Professor Schear has now succeeded
in convincing people to buy more than needed.
His greatest influence, he found, was lending
his theory to Canadian feds whose spending
is far more than any in the private sector
and our PM has the morals of Hannibal Lector.
“If you buy more, I’ll get ’em for you quick,”
the prof replies, though it’s a governmental lie,
but in the nation’s heart, these things pass by.
“Extraordinary!” the man in the street exclaims.
by living up to the X, my middle name,
and by playing the interplanetary game.
Metallic brass steam-engines are just tame
compared with ersatz dirigibles of iron
and no one has caught on when hearing me lyin’.
The juggernaut of government just rolls on,
and last week I sold them all automatons
to occupy their seats in Government House
while each is somewhere else, being a louse.
I pocket all their federal cash like clockwork
and I can tell you it's easier than dock work.”
Photos from Wikipedia