Now, you might think it bitchery,
but I'm not fond of witchery
or hocus-pocus, bogus wizard types.
For magic's not an honest thing,
though we can smile at conjuring,
and Penn & Teller really earned their stripes.
When folk claim to miraculate,
surprise, surprise, I can't relate;
I think it's all a steaming pile of crap.
We both know that your tricks aren't real,
though they're performed with utmost zeal;
so don't pretend it gets you in a flap.
You might like playing circus freak,
while robbing blind the frail and weak
to fund your purchase of a brand-new car;
but you must know that all your lies
are viewed by anyone who's wise
as actions both dishonest and bizarre.
And though you earn a crust tax-free
(thanks to superb accountancy),
the wages of your sin will bring you down.
Your moment in the sun is brief,
for no one really likes a thief;
and history will view you as a clown.
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Author Notes
Today's word: miraculate (v.) to produce by miracle.
The topic of this poem, in case it slipped by, is charlatans; I don't like them. And I don't like that they rob trusting (if gullible) people to line their own pockets. Of course, they are far from the only ones to do that.
My much-treasured Christmas present for 2017 is a book by Paul Anthony Jones: "The cabinet of linguistic curiosities". Each page contains a descriptive story about some obscure or archaic word. It occurred to me it would be a fun exercise to try and write, each day, a poem featuring the "word of the day" from the book.
Thanks for reading.
Image: There isn't one. I left it blank, with thoughts and prayers an image of Peter Popoff would miraculously materialise.
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