MONOPOLISED.
The iron’s been retired,
also rocking horse, lantern
purse. All replaced by the cat
(beating diamond-ringed guitar-
strapped robot with his ‘copter)
thus now one of 8: thimble,
Scottie dog. top-hatted, shoed
in wheel-barrow, racing car
or battleship(not always
in that order). How they vie
with each other! Soon there’ll be
boards in Saigon or Moscow,
while dicing hands clasp and pray
for double sixes, get out
of jail cards, Banker’s bonus
for just passing Go.
Let’s privatise stations,
utilities, make Mayfair
your goal, buy Old Kent Rd cheap!
Charge high rents, avoid taxes,
bring back the men on horseback,
money bags, the cannon. Out-
fox your foes with feline stealth.
Where next? Manhattan? Berlin?
© Marek Urbanowicz.
MARKOV’S CHAIN
I don’t know if you know this,
and why should you after all,
it is not obvious, not
signposted, and the way is
cul-de-sac’d, blind alley’d. Paths
lead you sweetly down them, then
end barb wired, brick walled. And maps
don’t help. Not Google, Sat Nav
nor dowsing since it ‘s a game
of snaking ladders and up
to the chanced throw of the dice
-luck in the twist of the wrist
Wet fingered to the West wind,
you’re mazed, without memory,
each second repeats the same.
Your sight is 20/60.
Should you climb to what you thought
was the top you could slip,
arse first, come slithering down.
And if you reach that last square,
where you have pinned all your hopes,
(having thrown the right number),
it turns out it’s all a game
behind a game and you start…
© Marek Urbanowicz.
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