Thursday 7 June 2012

Poet Scorner

Sounds can't smile

Music seldom moves and words don't dance

You poets

Blaggards of a sound bite chance

Feigning high art like a cheap romance

The world spins to utility not vanity

So let's have it straight

Drop the diction profanity and pull your weight

At the very thought of real work - the kind that puts food on the table

You break out in sweats and weave up some love lorn fable

Like you invented rhyme

It's not cool

Your average joe was rhyming for kicks at pre-school

You're compensating for loss - I get it

Maybe there is some truth in the shape of words

Poetic sounds much like pathetic

Most honest folk are too busy to mind

But then your smug smile kicks in like we're all groping round in the dark 

And you're lit up like Joan of Arc

It's at this point we condemn your metaphorical 'gift' to the literal dustbin

Misunderstood ?

Miss Underwood, my daughters monotone class assistant from KeyStage 2 is more gifted than you when she calls the register

At least she's not scheming for assonance, dud lit cross-references and deeper meaning

Get my gist, huh?

All of you, sad kids on the block

Artisan is street slang for dole house rock

I wouldn't mind but I just knocked this up while cooking dinner for the kids, babysitting, pressing some shirts and bringing the washing in

The wife's working late and I have some accounts to do

Anyone can poet with one hand tied back and you know it's all over

So go home, re-plug the phone, bin the Chekhov plays and the Pinter scripts and work on your social skills

Poetry filed for Chapter Eleven

Prose pays the bills

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