The Poetry Group Dismissed

''nothing exciting there'' he sniffed on

my wilful construction of verses

my creaky wooden stairway of an absurdist poem

each word a step hammered in, as I do now,

some straight and some askew

rickety but rising,

reaching for a teetering tenement

of titillating tone

ascending nonetheless

until the mallet of his pompous pronouncement

shattered the assembly to matchsticks

scattered in the dust of endeavour

and nobody, not one from that cocky clique

uttered a squawk of dissent.

I said nothing, my nom de plume

intactus...

And so I shall sweep up my splinters and

I shall not return

and I wish them all

gonorrhoea

and....

may they plonk their bare arses along a communal

tenement trough and

I'll light a ball of paper upstream

and like a burning barque

it will glide down the flow of piss

beneath their pink and pampered posteriors

its flaming tongues to caress and kiss

to singe and sear their private

inferiors

and may they douse their

raw, blistered and blackened bums

in buckets of dung

steeped in

lime, salt

and vinegar.