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Today we went to London town
With Ben to celebrate
His birthday, with some artefacts
We found at Modern Tate,
Then Ripley’s Odditorium.
It’s hard to demarcate.

In the massive Turbine Hall
Were books and bones and beds.
A film of Fahrenheint 451 -
Which every reader dreads
For fear they end up on display
With Ripley’s shrunken heads.

Two canvases of brown and red
Were called “Adam” and “Eve“.
We looked for apple and figleaf -
and felt rather naive -
‘Til Ripley threw the gauntlet down:
Challenged us to “Believe (It or Not)!”

A Mona Lisa made of toast,
With pieces that were nibbled.
An abstract landscape that a horse
With pen, in teeth, has scribbled.
(A similar effect achieved
By paint that Pollack dribbled.)

A collage from a Junior School
Was labelled “Matisse:Snail”.
A Viennese action artist
Did private parts impale.
And up the nose of ‘Enigma’
There went a six inch nail.

Diana made from laundry lint.
Exploding heads from Bacon.
A picture made from blood and piss:
Bodily fluids taken.
A man in an electric chair
Is switched on and is shaken.

o – o – o – o

From high concept to low culture,
From heavens to the gutter,
The self abuse is prevalent,
With spike or sword or cutter.
It’s hard to see who’s making art
And who is just a nutter.

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