When a gray-bearded mogul finds fiscal success
And pursues all his craziest larks,
Never heeding the specter of unchecked excess,
You get…sequels to dinosaur parks.
Now, that mogul, his beard, and his studio troupe,
Not content with achievements colossal,
Take the series and, in one fell misguided swoop,
Drive it into the ground like a fossil.
Here’s a series that’s always been slurping its gruel
From the puddles of film’s perfect storm,
But five movies removed, can these fossils still fuel
Any moment that’s moving or warm?
When you’re done with E.T. but not ready for Jaws on your Peak Steven Spielberg tour,
Split the difference with creatures who’ll fill you with awe AND devour you like beef on a skewer!
This is filmic Nirvana, the tippy-top-tip, the great dream of DeMille and Méliès.
It can banish the cynical smirk from your lip ’til you whisper, “Oh no!” and yell, “Yes!”
Fallen Kingdom arrives with a sinister twist:
Not content with the relative fuss
Of postponing their meal ’til we’re in their midst,
Now the reptiles are coming to us!
Chris Verses Hollywood 