When cattle eat rough kale
amid cowslips in the cornfield,
the castle keep may crumble
and kenneled curs escape.
When the Revolution comes
Fat Cats will caterwaul from Kansas to Kilkenny
while kites and krakens caper over all.
Wait for the crushing crisis,
the collision of catastrophe,
the kamikaze killers with their countdown;
while the Commons cautiously collude
Kali and Kaisers kill
and crazy captains keelhaul
cowboy deckhands just before the cruise.
Oh, be careful, Oh be careful
for knaves with knuckledusters can outdo knights
making them kowtow unto collapse.
Now is the time for kings to contemplate
but Knightsbridge will not save you
nor claviers nor cantatas counterbalance
curving crossbows.
You may seek cosmetic shelter
from the cocktails of calamity
but even if you clamber under cosy counterpanes
with your cushions and your keepsakes
you will be caught,
all Camillas, every Queen uncovered.
Forget the curdled custard and the cream;
Karma, Kismet, what you will
may cool your consternation
but claptrap will not help at all.
Neither Christ, nor Cross,
Divine Koran
nor Klu Klux Klan -
mere confusion in the cosmic panic;
contemplate no plan.
Like the Kalahari desert,
fascinating but bleak and brutal
cosmic cruelty will be your fate
and clean white cities vanish
when the khaki-clad crew-cut soldiers come
Capitulate;
keen you Kyrie.
