[simpleton]

December 1, 2009

Refy00znik

[His needs are more, so he gives less.]

By swimming underwater James
Bond penetrated the main room of the villain's lair,
Where some enormous weapon pointed in the air.
Around it, careless, dull no-names
Patrolled in shifts,
Brought in on lifts.

They seemed, in the eye of double-oh-seven
Like Guild-compliant cast and crew, milling around,
Waiting for the cameras to roll, unable to check sound,
Unable to be blown to Heaven,
Til, wardrobe done
And makeup on,
The stars emerged to start the shoot.
How often, Bond thought, had he done it before. Tense
And bitter at Her Majesty's puny recompense,
Bond thought of Scaramanga's loot:
Wealth beyond price,
In a paradise.
Even with expenses, how
Could MI6's comp package be worth the pain
Of punches thrown and taken, memories of slain
Bond Girls and trusted sidekicks now
Laid in their graves?
And if he saves
The world again, won't Bond be called
Again to run the mill of leering double entendres
Exchanged with slumming BAFTA winners? Alone Bond wonders
Where he'll be: decrepit? bald?
And all alone
By a silent phone?
"Can this be all there is to life,"
He asked. "This waste of money, stuntmen, sweat and power
On a digital monument forgotten in an hour?
By my age I should have a wife.
What man enjoys
Adventures for boys?
My conversation shouldn't be
A skein of puns and exposition observing rules
For writers who set love scenes in swimming pools.
Have I ever been to me?"

Gun drawn, he balked.
But then, up walked
A henchman in a silver suit
Who had to be dispatched with a judo chop.
Bond shot a squad of no-names, and from the steaming top
Of a scaffold pushed a buck-toothed brute.
Another reel
(Though you could feel
Your ass getting sore in the seat
And hoped by then the film was ending) began. Script notes
Required logo-bearing gear; some flying boats;
A speech, retort, then an action beat.
Bond was disarmed
And sat unharmed
To dinner with his nemesis,
After a costume change. In time the lair exploded.
The girl and Bond escaped. The chamber was reloaded
For Bond to say, with emphasis,
To start la ronde,
"I'm Bond, James Bond."






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Previously in simpleton:

Stedman: Proud Father of Global Misery
A public service announcement
Bogey Smoked: Why don't you?
A public service announcement
Eclogue IV
Translated from Virgil
Soccer: Official Sport of Terrorism
A public service announcement
Khrushchev's Plea
A poem in a brand new verse form: the Dagwood


A century of simpletons in the simpleton archive.

An assortment of classics in the Compleat Simpleton.

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