Mysteria

This is a piece of ludicrous, literary loutishness that I have dragged out of my files to celebrate the amazing success we are witnessing, at this very moment, in the search for a Brexit solution that respects everyone’s red lines.
The objective of this poem is to make someone other than myself laugh. It was written in June 2016, but it gives me no pleasure at all to remark upon my foresight or its relevance today.

Mysteria

Over the oceans of meandering minds

Thoughts are blown by wasteful winds

Towards the shores of amazing Mysteria

Where mystery meets hysteria

This state is no dreamy dystopia

Nor any useful, youthful utopia

This is a nation where creation’s gone crazy

Where the worthiest tasks are given to the lazy

 

Electors in this place, on whose votes some depend

Are deceived until their very end

And, at that end, when no truth is revealed

The laws which were promised are mostly repealed

For what the people want, the elected can’t give

Nor can people live how they’re told they must live

And yet they’re hysterically happy to be

Living out their life’s own mystery

 

In the past, when people had no choice

The royal or religious had the only voice

In Mysteria both forces have fought together

To ensure electoral confusion forever

Amen to that, some dispossessed may say

Those that can see no other way

They who consider themselves well-treated

Whose patience in poverty is never depleted

 

So, let those who enjoy the challenge of travel

Take action as society begins to unravel

Get the cheapest tickets while stocks still last

And leave behind your inglorious past

Make your way to that luxurious land

Where even agendas are totally unplanned

Bring excitement to the brink of hysteria

Emigrate to that land called Mysteria

With apologies to those who do not care

And they who find themselves already there