Whatever They Want

You cannot understand
Why though the musical was panned
There are queues around the block to see the show?
I am the public, and I want to go.

You say you’ve heard a rumour
That sophisticated humour
Is making a come-back,
That no one laughs at slapstick anymore.
I am the public, and I’m not so sure.

According to you
The Pistols misled us,
The movie men bled us,
And fed us
A diet of Rocky I, II, III, IV...
Jaws,
Psycho,
Dirty Harry,
And remakes galore
Of a dozen or more.
They conned us dupes
Like nincompoops;
You said: How can they fall for this?
The poor saps have been taken for a ride.
I am the public: I alone decide.

You critics say
It doesn’t pay
To overestimate my intelligence,
That no man ever lost money
By putting too low a premium on it.
You tell me I’ve been connned
By every fink and vagabond,
That when it comes to painting, I’m not smart.
I am the public: I saw what is art.

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WHATEVER THEY WANT: a poem by Alexander Baron

Whatever They Want

You cannot understand
Why though the musical was panned
There are queues around the block to see the show?
I am the public, and I want to go.

You say you’ve heard a rumour
That sophisticated humour
Is making a come-back,
That no one laughs at slapstick anymore.
I am the public, and I’m not so sure.

According to you
The Pistols misled us,
The movie men bled us,
And fed us
A diet of Rocky I, II, III, IV...
Jaws,
Psycho,
Dirty Harry,
And remakes galore
Of a dozen or more.
They conned us dupes
Like nincompoops;
You said: How can they fall for this?
The poor saps have been taken for a ride.
I am the public: I alone decide.

You critics say
It doesn’t pay
To overestimate my intelligence,
That no man ever lost money
By putting too low a premium on it.
You tell me I’ve been connned
By every fink and vagabond,
That when it comes to painting, I’m not smart.
I am the public: I saw what is art.

Back To Poetry Index