In yellow plastic ponchos, like the priests
Of some extravagant Order
Of Consumers, the crowd moves through the rides,
Rain on the lenses of camcorders.
At Three the parade down Main Street thrills the
At Seven the electric parade unveils
Its post-Christian paradise of icons,
A sky of lasered Brailles.
This is where Fantasy pours its golden shower:
The culture of the world pumped down a conduit
To emerge as a cartoon
For Cockney and Inuit.
If you were the Dante of Animation
You might show here Disney himself as hero,
Flanked by Aesop and the Brothers Grimm,
Exchanging bonjours with Charles Perrault.
And the landscape stretches away
As rich as psyche, and the innocent
And guilty urgings
Search for their sacrament.
As the eye takes in Frontierland,
Futureland, Adventureland, Space
Mountain, you can feel the pressure of imaginings
Clamouring for their place.
Isle where the flunkies peck
At the banknotes scattered on a manicured lawn,
Because the assiduous Nanny dandles a silver spoon
For the privileged newborn;
Inadequacyville where the
Fells the bar-room bully with a single blow,
And the lantern-jawed explorer finds the fabulous
Treasure of Pharaoh;
Or Seductionland where the voluptuous naked
Descend from the sky on parachutes,
While the blonde steps out of a birthday cake
Or is served up on a plate, en croûte.
And a kingdom deeper, darker still,
Where the dragons hoard the embers
Of their grudge, and the dwarfs that Snow White never met
Plan their dismemberments.
And here stands Bluebeard's Castle:
Each man's secret life,
A warren of atrocity,
A chamber of the knife.
If you've any comments on his poems, K.M.Payne would be pleased to hear from you.