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King of the Jungle
King of the Jungle
Queuing with my homies
Houdinis every one.
No sharpened tongues, but scissors,
To calm the shaggy throng
Not all blokes in this queue,
Despite lockdown's grooming blooper,
As I stand here and review,
Will contest my Bradley Cooper
Alas, Delilah wins.
It's time to shave my greying locks
Hirsute-less head, Yul Brynner,
Now the look my ego rocks
Now a simple peasant
With falling dreams, so vain.
No more the Isolation King
With glorious flowing mane..
My crowning jewel.
Majestic theft!
The jungle cries, her heart bereft..
As gothic curls now hit the floor;
The swooning fans will be no more
And yet..
Enthroned here, buys me precious time..
To formulate this simple rhyme
And meditate upon what's passed
As hairy shoes I have amassed.
I dwell on more important things
While scissors snap, and clipper sings
Of friendship. Love.
Of breathing air.
Despite the loss of debonaire..
The blessing of recaptured choices.
The privilege of freedom's voices.
And now my head, so strangely free;
Reminds of who I'm meant to be.
Jinjagoliath
13th April 2021
Copyright ©
Christopher Grieves
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