I Love Lucy in the House of Wax

Newspaper taxis of yellow and green, turtles and penguins in silk,
Fat opera divas dressed only in thongs, fat asses bathing in milk.
Diamante brooches the colours of light, emeralds and rubies in gold,
Icicles shaped like dildos of glass, tongue-traps of syrup so bold.

Dolphins cavorting in umbilical fluid, tigers sunbathing on loungers,
Skeleton tax men in coffins of brass, dutifully sniffing out scroungers,
Waxworks of presidents, deader than dead, welcoming deceas’d movie stars,
Shiny bright corpses with permanent grins, propping up counters in bars.

Laughing policemen in dimly-lit dens, sleeping old ladies on benches,
Forgotten celebrities thrusting their mikes, at yesterday’s heroes in trenches,
It’s all a laff-riot, a family day out, come over, it’s all free of tax,
Bring the dog and your uncle, your priest and your whore, come visit the House of Wax.

Waxing Lyrical

It may be a poem about a waxwork museum, but then again.


Love Songs


Max Scratchmann

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