Mercyland

O what nags you, dude with a smart phone,

Alone and palely loitering?

Like the sigh of a little dream

That had no birds singing.

O what nags you, dude with a smart phone,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

Though harvest will never be done.

I see a dying lily on your brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on your cheeks a fading flower

Much in need of a beauty parlour.

I met a lady in the mela,

Full wise – a Deva’s chela,

Her words sweet, her smile drugged,

And her eyes were wild.

I bought her lollipop,

And cotton candy, and Chocó dandy;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

She took me to her chamber cool,

And there she taught and fought full throat,

And there I shut my wild wild eyes

With dreams in mind and doodles on smart phone.

 And I dreamt and dreamt

Until the heavens berserk went,

And woke up to see an empty ground

But for people going round and round.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—‘The Playground sans Mercy

Thee hath in thrall!’

And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Like the sigh of a little dream

With a smart phone that brings emails galore.

A parody of Keats’s famous poem, La Belle Dame Sans Merci. I’m sure Keats will forgive me for this sacrilege.