“… You are a ‘Poet’,
for Christ Sake!
Articulate, Smart,
and very Clever.
I thought, foolishly
… that taking you
out amongst
other ‘Artists’…
would be Magical.
But, you ended-up
describing a way
of Vandalising
‘Lyrical, Flowery
Poetry and Spoken
Word Delivery’
[You’d Invented]
… by Destroying
Aural ‘Scumbling’
and ‘Sfumato’…
with the use
of ‘Gatling-Gunned’
Razor-Sharp Edges.
Proceeding to give
an Example… by
beautifully Reciting
one of your own
[Rare these days]
‘Love Poems’…
you had the entire
room in the palm
of your Charismatic
hand, I swear.
Until you smirked…
retraced a few steps
and Injected
… a middle-eight…
using the Imagery
of Wilfred Brambell
‘All Ponced Up’
outside of ‘Work
Hours’ and the
White Trash, sterile
Platinum Blonde
of Myra Hindley…
to Lumière Auto
-chrome as you then
… Photographed…
the Exact Moment
‘Unrequitedness’
Targets the Soul…
a [Precise] fraction
of a second before
the ‘Wilt’ and
‘Limp-Dickness’
of DECAY actually
… B-l-o-s-s-o-m-s…
into ‘Residency’
… via, [Surgical]
‘Line Manipulation’.
Congratulations…
everyone now either
wants to ‘Fight’
or ‘Fuck’ you…
some of them BOTH!”
