Paul Dark

It's the eighteenth century.

Some characters in curly wigs
are sitting around awkwardly
on antique furniture,
looking bored and waiting
for the invention of television.

All that the womenfolk
have left to look forward to
(and some of the guys)
is the sight of Hero topless:
wielding his scythe
or sweating in the sweltering heat,
his pecs glistening
in the old tin mine.

What is smelting anyway?
Nobody actually knows
           (or cares).

Look at Villain over there.
He hates Hero so very much.
He wants to be seen as respectable
but he really needs to be loved.
The thing is he's too proud and stubborn;
he's the yin to Hero's yang.
For pity's sake,
somebody kick him!

Urchin turned Heroine
is titivating in her kitchen
when she is troubled by a vision:
      of salted caramel,
          pansexuality and
          Foxy Bingo.
What is this foolishness?
What does it all mean?
It's all so confusing and shocking.
She feels a sudden urge to swoon
or throw herself off the nearest cliff
and onto the jagged rocks...

But nay! Not today!
Heroine hitches up her
white thigh high stockings
and shakes out her
flame-coloured locks.

B.R. 12/10/2016

Hero puts in a bit of legwork