On Nailing the Ninety-Five Theses in 2016

Ein Feste burg ist unser Gott Luther (1529?)

(Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses, about the Protestant reform, to the door
of the Castle Church, Wittenberg on 31st October, 1517...)

It should cause something of a stir

Once pencils sharp, in a upcoming academic year,
My namesakes strong days date comes round
His ninety-five theses to resound:
And I, today, in exactly my small way
Have made something of the same headway:
The downward middle classes ire
Has drawn in timely fashion my fire;
Of course youll say its just a school
Youre really, Martin, quite a fool

To get het up oer students jape

And take it as some kind of rape...
But Quizleteers and Facebook friends
Ye lap dogs! hear how matter ends!
I blaze through Matzalkas seething rain
With anger coursing through my brain;
With trusty hammer good and strong
I replace the poster where the wrong
Had infested itself with a small graffito
Reminiscent of the Sussex Gruffalo!
A sweetpacked smiling pinkish girl
With whiteboard glinting like a pearl
Resplendent in its power to logos
Where ignorant orphans try to sod us;
Underneath her, snakes a subtle text,
In Latin, Hebrew, Greek, and next
A kind of version for perplext
My fathomless meaning whomso quest

Which, saying, tells that who the board

Portrays is not the binding word
But whiteboard itself is, Roman wax
Suitable alike for cursing cats
And writing E is M C squared:
Hungarian schoolings somewhat weird
While Bach you cannot sing along
Had Luther not first given him the song!
My homeward journey falls less rain
Blue puddles glint in roads, the twain
With footpaths replete in escape from pain
Of Natures wrath, and same again...
O mortals! Wheneer we half transgress
Comes swiftly Heavens chaste redress
We write much, but still make a mess
Or post too frankly, are tedious unless
The Holy Spirit with great power

Cuts through black clouds, makes our hour!

My Luthers anniversary Schrift
I will now confess and now from the record
will lift:
The small reaction that drew my blaze
These watery, watercolour summer days!
When I am gone, Magyaroszg
Will still with its language make wag
The myriad tongues upon the globe
That text in Facebook, draw in Adobe,
And live in three-part mystery
The counterpoint of their lifes history.
Come Propsero, withdraw the strobe!
Ive had my innings at the Globe...
As you from students would be set free
Indulgence, friend, for me....not wrath!
The rain still splashing in the street

My things at home still laid out neat,

For Luthers 499th, lets weep:
Were brothers all, caught out finally in the deep,
Chasing at last our own Old Hundreth!