Oh. Right.

Today is National Poetry Day 2015, then. As you might tell, it has crept up on me, entirely unannounced, which is slightly shameful for one who ought to be abreast of poetical happenings in the world. Now that I do know, I’m enjoying all of the verses being shared by friends and colleagues and acquaintances, as well as poetry written especially for today – John Cooper Clarke’s “Ode to the Coast” being one of the better examples.

Anyway, here’s my offering for the day. It was written a few months back now, and I’ve performed it on a couple of occasions at spoken-word nights (and days), but this is the first time I’m releasing it to general scrutiny as a written piece. It didn’t make my final dissertation portfolio – too derivative – but I’m pleased with it nonetheless.



Thanks for trusting this kitten, you kittens
My ball of yarn all rain-bowed and silly-stringed
Sticking to everything.
It was needed, and your music
(Like all music I ran into)
Helped in ways indescribable
And I thank you for that dream.

It was a strange dream.
I was a good guy on a white steed
Drunk and high
My heart pouring out in a desert
With no one alive in sight
But everyone dying
For each moment I stumbled.


A dream.
The failed hero
The fool, not a king.
But a simple-pimple poindexter
Pigeon-toed in love and vexed
Can describe the sights and sounds swirling around
And the dangers that were found.

She, a beauty, and worth faith and trust
Walked beside the lost pup.
Though things are as they are
In time life will show the dead man’s hand
And what it truly was
For he had no cards, none
But an empty love-stained hand

And a pertinacity
To misspell every word
Uttered by man.


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