To Poetry
Also Goddamn does this app not have formatting or what?
I have now learnt to love what I despised.
Though like a lover new I must confess,
That things fundamental, that test like stress,
Adherence to strictures, a small demise.
Learning rhythm and rhyme are like zip ties:
They can bind, confine and break those best left,
Free verse singing around the wilderness
Or grip in thrill, like moans between her thighs.
Iambic pentameter: still as tough.
Hard to please like a lover demanding
That small demise in demesne outlandish
But when a punk git good, rocking it rough
No more iambic intimidating
Dominating from the bottom, what dish.
To say my flow is crude from a pipe dried
Serving harsh browns, fluster, make me a mess
This isn’t what for, the bard, Shakespeare died
My guy, Old Bill, crudest of all, attest.
But as cocks crow and socks grow, had enough
Stuff down energy, the brakes now tamping
Clamping, love is sure not pride by the truck
Else fall for actions humiliating.
Infuriating, my love, I do wish
Instead of fissioning, a fusion of
Freedom and form, a dose of class and kitsch
Which might make for an unorthodox love
Freedom shouldn’t mean destroying structure
It’s with stone not sand that we build these wonders
To my comfort zone
That of five seven and five
Holler for haiku
Drink baiju with me
Inappropriate you say
I say we are thieves
Museums are proof
Civilization is built
Using stolen goods
Is there beauty in
Reverent Bastardization
In ham fisted love?
This outpouring of
words imploring, understand
Free verse asks of us
Too little to stretch
Spoon feed us less
Hollow interiors
Meaning ascribed inferior
I ask why look to the west
Taking structure from the east
I love but detest
This language I need
A gross betrayal, like juice and mayo
Wo meiyo the skills to write
in a mother tongue
I was orphaned from
Pre-97 boarding school kid
Hampshire was for years formative
Summers in San Fran I called home
My skin was just colour,
I speak and spoke in white
Powder snow and cracked impure ice
If freeverse is lack of other then i’ll just make my own
Humans were born to build be it wood, steel or stone
Poetry my lover, marrow close within my bones
I’ll rhyme for you forever, even when my mouth stays closed.