The promising promise
that promises hold,
promise what they so
promisingly promise,
in promising so promisingly
their promises,
that promise so promisingly all
that has been
promised.
Were that possible
which could possibly be,
then that would
be possible for all to see;
all the possibilities of
the possible is a possibility
eminently possible as
possibly could be;
which is a distinct possibility
were that possible.
#ImAnArtistBecause ,
what’s not to like about,
failure,
poverty,
& social isolation?
Staring at….
waiting for something that
wasn’t going to happen;
the sound of allotted time,
of a line running out,
of seconds disappearing,
a hectic drumming….
FOOTNOTE FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE READER:
I’m rather fond of hashtag games on twitter.There was one earlier on today which I adopted as the title of this poem.The tweet( max.140 characters) was parlayed into what you see before you…
Firstly a dash of hyperbole,
then a smidgen of self-deprecating wit
followed by a dollop of philosophical insight
a portion of of regret,
a suggestion of humour
a few slivers of empathy,
a nod to current events
covered in layers of allegory
leavened with plentiful allusions
drizzled with heartfelt emotion,
then serve
either cold or hot
this masterpiece de jour,
bon appetit!
If steel became fudge-cake
and glass marshmallow ,
what use would strawberry jam be ?
Were concrete baking powder
and the oceans of the world rice pudding ,
how sweet would the wine taste in
bottles made of insouciance ?
Were all emotions reduced to silence
would we all be shouting in our graves ?
Is the Earth a badly drawn boiled egg
and should mountains really be the other way up ?
What we thought was music
was something that didn’t make a sound ,
and before they send someone to arrest us
know that the Policeman who comes
lies fast asleep ,
hidden in Kafka’s wardrobe.
We lost our way so long ago ,
and never found our way back ,
though we kept searching
and searching and searching
and we’re searching still ;
For that way back to those days ,
with their blue sky mornings
and golden sunsets ;
which we somehow have lost
on our way to a future
that betrayed us ,
left our dreams dying dying
dying to return once again ,
to those days we lost forever
with their blue sky mornings
and golden sunsets ,
which we can no longer see
with our blind eyes.
I often don’t bother to
look up the meaning of words ,
words that already know me
words that know exactly
how they’ll get used ;
They all know their places ,
where each and everyone of them
is expected to be without being asked ;
The kind of words I use
are reliable ,efficient and
add that certain something to
otherwise dull pedestrian corteges
of paragraphs and verses ;
I often don’t bother to
look up the meaning of words ,
they seldom give me cause to doubt
their abilities and I give
them no cause to doubt mine
I sometimes look up
the meaning of words ,
words that I already know
words that are well acquainted with me ,
my use of them has
a purpose a plan and outcome ;
I’d rather not waste them
nor I feel do they gain
much satisfaction knowing that
my making use of them
might be somehow construed
as frivolous or trivial ;
I sometimes look up
the meaning of words ,
not out of any doubt as
to recalling their precise meaning or use ,
but rather to reassure myself
of how well stocked my arsenal is .
Babble babble , chatter chatter,
chunter chunter , mutter mutter ,
natter natter , guffaw guffaw ,
rant rant , mumble mumble ,
yawn yawn , whisper whisper ,
shout shout , en-un-ci-ate en-un-ci-ate ,
clamour clamour , yell yell ,
bellow bellow , project project ,
harangue harangue , question question ,
whinge whinge , whine whine ,
yammer yammer , stut-ter stutt-er ,
cackle cackle , laugh laugh ,
splutter splutter ,cough ,cough .
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