Hail the King!

He knows what is what

And he knows who is who

And, if you’re not careful,

He’ll do who to you!

‘Cos by putting you down

He can build himself up

So he’ll offer a refill

From his poisoned cup.

 

He walks down the hallway

All strutty and cool.

It’s clear to all passing

He’s nobody’s fool.

Opinions don’t matter

When he is around –

Each word that he utters

Is clearly profound.

 

But past castle parapet

And his thick walls,

Behind the array

Of his huge cannon balls,

Enter the Throne room

And you’ll find the King –

He’s just a lost boy

And not wearing a thing!

 

Stephen Tomkins
5 October 2016
Perth

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Deeper

Two eyes, a nose, a mouth and chin
Set in endless shades of skin.
So different and yet still the same,
Each mix a chance genetic game.

And though I look a bit like you,
We may not share a common view
But still we both laugh, smile and cry,
Feel tired and hurt, with teary eye.

Yet so important are our looks,
The subject fills a million books.
The shape of my nose, the shade of my skin –
Really? Must judgement here begin?

Stephen Tomkins
5 July 2016
Sydney