A Poem's Not For People
[for Rupert]
a poem’s not for people
who only hear music in supermarkets
who can whistle their complete national anthem
who tip-toe on concrete
who only buy proprietary brands
a poem’s not for people
who think France is a foreign country
who travel only to get somewhere else
who eat fish and chips in Madagascar
who cross oceans in fear of the sky
a poem’s not for people
who touch-type smugly
who wear optically neutral glasses
who run backwards to behave existentially
who save their passports for posterity
a poem’s not for people
who think Godfather
III is the best of the trilogy
who swear in another’s tongue
who can’t laugh and cry at Big Brother
who only read books above sea level
a poem’s not for people who haven’t considered conversion to
Catholicism
and queried how the Devil could possibly dress in red
a poem’s not for people
with iron shins
with no nostalgia
with everything defined
with friends in high places
with perfect eyesight
a poem’s not for people who think continuity is the
one true art form
a poem’s not for people
who think a banjo and violin are just stringed instruments
who can’t imagine Su Doku preceded by Neil
who aren’t in awe of Chandler
who miss the potential in a rainy day
a poem’s not for people
with nothing on their plate
a poem’s not for people
who can’t drink bourbon with a cheap cola
who think soap opera strives to be high culture
who have never listened to opera
who only put grout between their tiles
a poem’s not for people
who didn’t cry at Curtis Mayfield’s fall
who climb the smallest hills
who misunderstand patriotism
who never miss their parents
who adore road rage
who can’t just watch a fox
who always get along
who love for the sake of it
who have Hollywood teeth
a poem’s not for people
who write reviews for themselves
who publish to be damned
who abhor metaphor
who only dip in their toes
who always write sober
who spend all of their time sharpening
a poem’s not for people
who have never admired a friend’s poetry
who haven’t seen the Isley Brothers
who think Johnny Cash is just a singer
who haven’t found humility a struggle
who can’t say fuck off
to religions
who think mayonnaise and mustard are an excessive
combination
who are unable to be faithful
who cannot control their bleakest thoughts
a poem’s not for people who will not grope in the dark
my solicotr will be in touch..... :)
ReplyDeleteno, only joking. awesome!
& flattering
rupert
And your original was a great stimulus/model for students to copy for GCSE creative writing: gave them a structure, complex in places; and another kind of framework for not being literal, but not necessarily metaphoric.
DeleteWhy can't any of you people write poetry that makes sense? I'm completely baffled by a torrent of unrelated statements by some-one who is apparently out of sorts with the world and the good god-fearing people who inhabit it.
ReplyDeleteOn the other hand each line could be used as the starting point for some angst-ridden misanthropic song lyrics. Reckon you're onto a winner in that respect!
ps did enjoy it, by the way . .