Pome for the day

*bleepity-bleep!                            
   bleepity-bleep!                              
     bleepity-bleep!
       bleepity-bleep!*

or is it?

*bbbblllleeeeppppiiiittttyyyy----bbbblllleeeepppp!!!!*

*the sound of no button*

REJ:- Wel, I see from my quadrophonic twatphone, mined by a child slave in Congo, assembled by a yellow slave in China, and hawked at 5000% by a 'genius' we are all to admire, that someone I don't quite know, has had breakfast this morning. Marvellous what they can do.

Sioned says she always keeps her inbox tidy, especially after that virus. You should see her spam folder - I can't remember the last time it was full. etc. I'msorryIhaven'taclue what I'm writing. Gadewch i ni have the pome:-

We've had Empires ruled by Emperors,
And Kingdoms ruled by Kings,
Now Countries politician-run -
The silly rhyming things

And history repeats the times
We don't come to our senses
I only put this quatrain in
To save me changing tenses:-

A farmer grows a bumper crop
- The world enriched in wealth -
Well that was nice, but what the price?
- Collapsed just like his health

A tender fuels the steam machine
And mining is the goal
But wait! - the less he shovels in
The more he's left with coal

A banker plays the fruit machine
He's bought a dodgy token
He ends up bust, take this on trust:-
The house wins, never broken

An expert surely touched by God
Hallucinates World debt
And so we pray, and wisely pay
The absent martians yet

When someone tells you something's hard
And you should look away
It might be that they can't explain
Quite half the things they say.

REJ:- Da iawn Idris. But you couldn't be bothered to change the tenses and make it chronological -

Idris:- I would for a fee -

REJ:- And that's just the farmer from Macbeth, isn't it? -

Idris:- No, it's a different one, just suffering from a similarly inevitably disastrous increase in wealth -

REJ:- Hang on, I'm meant to be the idiot -

Idris:- Something tells me you can still do it -

REJ:- Idris bach! What rhymes with politician? Duw! you really must think before you write, isn't it?! -

Idris:- So an accent makes you an idiot does it? -

REJ:- No, I think it was more missing the rhyme. Anyway, are you going to get into character? I can't do this on my own you know -

Idris:- It's been so long I can't remember who I is. I'll just be an artist type. Say something stupid to cue me in -

REJ:- And Idris! the coal! awful dirty llwch glo indeed! You don't be wanting to speed up the machine with irresponsible shovellings now do you? - you'll dig it all out! There'll be none left -

Idris:- Not really, Richard. You see it was a metaphor -

REJ:- Wel, it would be fiscally impru - I mean - Diawl! it's not easy being an idiot -

Idris:- Try being an artist. Oooh! I know. The coal. *ahem!* Richard! I bring you riches beyond your imagination, and you see only dust! Every word is holy, rent from my very soul. They glitter! I transmute the leaden into gold! The coal becomes the diamond only under the most enormous pressure! The sharpest cuts! Only the sharpest cuts may make the most brilliant shine! The multifaceted reflection radiates a preternatural light illuminating a butterfly broken on the wheel of words that - *Clunk!*.....*Oooof!* -

REJ:- Wel, that's broken it. I never got the hang of it anyway. Screen split clean in half! - a broken fairground mirror. For God and Country.