Champs-Élysées Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

Your Majesty, can you assess your boredom?
Your buffoon Buffon has jumped on your throne;
he grasps the bottom of your Lady but you laugh.
Alas! The folks demand bread, not spectacles
or sponge-cake, watches, bijou of your Highness.
At least Madame Douben invites people home,
for exhibitions at Chenonceau with some music.

So speak up, before they cut off your head.
What is your last wish: terrestrial or celestial?

Do you prefer Élysées with grass over precipice?
Or perhaps Ilysion Field of Proteas, in the first light,
at the edge of the Universe, near blond Radamanthes,
in the coolness of Zephyrus, with no storms or hail?

Do you desire the three graces of Moulin Rouge?
Or liberty, justice and equality original from Athens?

Better confess; your soul may finally be saved,
before your royal salamander bites you,
before you yourself conquest your Troy
using the Trojan horse of your light self,

I say that today belongs to you,
tomorrow belongs to a third person,
ever belongs to no-one, though..



© JosephJosephides