I think I swallowed a lyrical bug or something. I’m posting yet another poem, just because I seem to have found my inner Voltaire . This one was composed at the request of my tesoro. I chose this topic because that’s all that weighs on my mind lately: the seeming ‘undirection’ of my potential career. It’s called:
The moment we’d been waiting for
The unraveling of the score
Glee follows at finally making the cut
All the toil hadn’t resulted to naught
Euphoric as a pair of raised oars
Prancing about, newly admitted Zebras
Wonder and awe on every tongue
Eager to absorb it all in our neural sponge
Novelty soon fades away
The façade was not here to stay
And then the only water which annoints
Sails on a straight course of four points
Lord Diplock, Smith versus who?
Massive migraine, oh you too?
Cases of such a frequency
They are almost a currency
And the countdown begins
Six months to either lose or win
Then march onward to Mars
I hear it is called the bar
What is in a LL.B
But a measure of pedigree?
And the lush vegetation
Of a supreme occultation?
Or perhaps I’m just foolish
Harbouring this frivolous fetish
Lone wolf in a judicial pack
Had no notice, no memo -jack!
I just thought it was Law Laid Back