Another mystery solved.

Don't you just hate officialdom.

I didn't know it at the time,

it came as news to me,

but it seems my efforts all took place

Three thousand years B.C.


I wanted something simple

a bungalow would do

eschewing ostentation

but with a pretty view.


So wrong to get an architect

It all got out of hand

He couldn't do simplicity

he wanted something grand.


And the plan looked good on paper

he said it couldn't fail

but I should have looked more closely

paid attention to the scale.


For how did I not notice

that he'd hired five thousand males

Or that invoice for the brickwork

from that company in Wales.


And the forest disappearing

wasn't dieback after all

it was all cut down for rollers

to smooth the lengthy haul.


"Why all the holes?" I'd asked him

"For drainage" he'd replied

But his eyes they both avoided me

both telling me he'd lied.


Scores of chiselled invoices

unopened, ticking loudly.

If I'm to be a ruined man

My God I'll do it proudly.


Raise those stones, upright stand

Creating age long myths

Bamboozeling those yet to come

My clever monoliths.


And as they rose, one by one

I saw the planners dream

The masterful creation of

his architectural scheme.


No one had seen the weasel man

emerging from the throng

his face alive with schadenfraud

to right a paltry wrong.


"Stop right there, not one more stone,

keep all in this position,

you haven't asked the council for

the requisite permission.


Red tape tangle, bound and tied,

Stones now worthless rubble.

If we'd a bank I'd now be rupt

A stone age South Sea Bubble.


No mystery now about the Henge

no druid lore dogmatic

no aliens or sorcerers

just jobsworths bureaucratic.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed