It starts with a bit of confusion at first

Maybe a question about me

And some daily occurrence

With me hoping I can work it through

 

So I pick up the rhyme

On the street of the stage

Cos in this age of poetry

Not on the page, the beats from within

sing inside of me

And now eternally,

the rhymes come internally

 

And through these rhymes

that ain’t no crimes

That only cost pence

And don’t make sense

to paint a fence in a fog

that’s dense with mince

– it don’t matter

Cos the fatter the rhythm I make

the better impressed

with the batter at the crease

on the mic wheeling round

on my two wheeled trike.

 

See, I inject a certain kind of pause at this point,

Slow it down to make it seem more interesting.

 

In these poems I can insert

preposterous images

as some kind of metaphor

you’ll forget by the end of the poem

Cos there ain’t no knowing what this poem is really about, don’t you see – it’s all about me.

I speed it up speedily now.

I can be in the sea, swimming happily, with a bee

As long as the sounds make the pounds and the

Rhymes come internally

You’ll see the whole of me

And accept me as

worthy of a slam trophy.

I insert a joke at this point

about drinking green tea

not poisonous coffee or Lipton ice

– they won’t do for me.

 

And so as we approach the final third

I slow it down a little

Get philosophical, make it universal,

Try to answer a big question about society

Our sobriety, or link some personal shit

To human psychology

and hope I can land on a word

that has an ending of shun

before I’m done.

 

Cos information is communication

We can make progression

for the last dedication

of the poem to some relation

to the thing that started the thing in motion.

 

To see if that original confusion has gone

If some epiphany has appeared

Before I become disappeared from the stage

In this age

Where words out loud count for more

Than craft on a page.

What’s clear though, is that although you’ve been engaged in this rampage of words

You won’t remember a single one.

 

Thank you for listening. I’m now done.

 

 

 

 

Note: not targeted at anyone in particular. Just an observation. I have great respect for the skill and dexterity of this kind of poetry.