Sunday, September 11, 2011

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
And so I shall sweep up my splinters and
I shall not return
and I wish them all
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
and may they douse their
raw, blistered and blackened bums
in buckets of dung
steeped in
lime, salt
and vinegar.

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