Tags
Ending, meaning, Metaphor, Metaphysical, metapoetic, poem, poetry, postmodern, Reader, transformation, wordplay, writing
LET ME
into this truly devious art
let me initiate you
what we have here
is a written document
scarcely different
from any other,
like Gutenberg’s Bible
in readable print
except, if you are sharp
of sense, quick
on the uptake
you may have discerned
in the pursuit of something
out of the ordinary
the lines are not
equal
lines are
not equal
and, dare I say it, there is oft repetition
(I wish to alert you to the possibility
you may well
be surprised to
encounter repetition)
and rhyme too: slight and subtle
or heavy and, ahem, egregious (yes, Mr Mathers,
I’m
pointing at you)
but
the one true difference
the one solid, spiritual difference,
that I’m sure
you will struggle to
agree with
is that
whilst documents are inked, poems
are in blood
like this little blood offering
you are welcome to
do what you wish with
feel free
to
sublimate this
sacrifice
use
it well
for purposes good,
better, best
or badly, yes
treacherously and
delicious badly
reading everything here quite otherwise
finding (alighting
upon)
no saccharine stand-in or make-do
but one-hundred and
ninety-nine percent ( I promise you)
raw
and refined
pure syrup-sweet perverse