Marcus Aurelius Calls His Agent

 

What are your deductions   Philip Marlowe?
When treated royally I find
It is my own poor royalties are paying   –
My publisher subtracts our ‘business lunches’
‘Celebration dinners’ and ‘book launches’   –
On these I was not counting   –
But ‘people’ in ‘Publicity’ insist
While ‘working-out’ my desultory ‘contract’   –
You know the meaning of ‘contract’
In your ‘City of Lost Angels’   Mr Marlowe?

I have no legal agent
But your own self   Mr Marlowe
Some say you are a secular ‘holy ghost’
Or even ‘avenging angel’   –
Though those who thirst for justice
Often find ‘the finger’
Points back at themselves

A Record Label honcho
Likewise pulls his publicist aside   –
‘Present a blown-up figure to the Press
By which we greet all artists newly-signed   –
Not the debt they’ll owe us
When touring takes a toll
On albums that won’t sell   –   and we ‘Move On’

Meanwhile   –   social citizens
Find their income-tax ‘invisibly’
Supports the depth of social immorality   –
Exporting arms and ‘torture aids’
To regimes who love the label and the brand
‘Made In England’

Mr Marlowe…
Have they never seen the play?
Not by Mr ‘Saint’   –   I mean by…
Mr ‘Priestley’   –   It concerns
A Spectre Inspector
Who calls while all are feeding their smooth faces…
Halloween or ‘All Souls’ Eve’
‘An Inspector Calls’

 

 

Bernard Saint
Illustration: Claire Palmer

 

 

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