Miss Manners
I am an ephemeral and a not too discontented citizen of a
metropolis considered modern because all known taste has
been avoided in the furnishings and the exterior of the houses
as well as in the plan of the city. ~ Rimbaud on London
A very poor young man decides to hold
His candle in the fog and then pronounce
On taste in London. If he weren’t so bold,
We’d see how rich it is for him to trounce
The tastelessness around him. We now see
The irony despite the haughtiness.
Since he’s a genius, we must make a plea
For him even before his naughtiness.
The naughtiness? This adolescent tramp
Stomping in the realm of alexandrine
Poetry is a horrid muscle cramp.
That’s how the others find him, that obscene.
..This hobo struck, stabbed, liced, and screwed—disgraced—
….The guy who helped this arbiter of taste.