It Is What It Is And It Was What It Was

It was the Iron Age, it was the Age of Steam.

Rolled like a lawn and starched like a shirt,

the rich were crushed poor and the paupers grew

like aquabeads. "Off with their heads," they said.

Off went their heads; off, too, went their bodies,

still attached. First against the wall

was winner, best of three. Every valley was exalted

and every mountain and hill laid low,

the crooked straightened on the rack,

the rough places planed. Swaziland/Switzerland

grated, plastered, pressed and grouted.

Lands were squidged into the seas,

people and money moved by Brownian motion.

Colours were brushed from face to face

and chromosomes renationalised.

The chance of rain, or anything else, was constant,

given sufficient spans. The days were tepid.

News at Ten was nowt but bongs;

three-letter acronyms, all one letter, thrice.

Everyone shared the Ryder Cup.

Being the best of times, ontologically,

it existed. Being the worst of times,

practically, it didn't. Therefore all aspects

realigned. Time, space, matter, variance,

skewed around a mean, creating

what we now call "stuff". Truly, it was,

the blwoerst of times.

Written by ZACK DAVIES

Artwork by LESLEY ELLEN COOPERWAITE