I never did like Tolkien much,
Found his prose ludicrously prolix,
I found the Golden Age posited
More than a little worrying,
Summoning up an authoritarianism
At odds with my own notion of freedom
I avoided the classics,
With their own fearful gravitas,
Preferring the margins,
Where I continue to dwell,
Mopping up the regal overspill,
Lees from the aristocracy.
I’ve no doubt Tolkien’s intentions were noble,
But therein lies the problem.
There are no Golden Ages.
No Kings or Queens worth much
No supernatural order running the show.
The only ring I am enthused about is the one I’ll wear
Six months from now,
For very different and no less golden reasons.