Whining poetry
The Gracehoper was always jigging ajog, hoppy on akkant of his joyicity.
James Joyce, Finnegans Wake
Complain with the full force of a Jesuit priest
Whine like a man who knows he's out of time
Casuistry and sophistry work together perfectly.
But poetry's more about the wine than the whining
About seeking to express the inexpressible
Whilst complaining about just how difficult it is.
A true poet makes the difficult oh-so easy
Can turn water into wine in a half-truncated line,
Caesuras soar in words and never return
Or bore the reader into interminable snores.
I must learn how to never compromise.
Pull out his eyes! Oh! pull out his eyes!
Apologise! Apologise!
I will not apologise if it cost me my life.
I will never apologise. I laugh in the face
Of all these crypto-fascists of left or right
Full of the certainty and zeal of the empty-headed
Authoritarians of race or religion or accent or class.
Don't like being offended?
Go! spit in the face of all the stupidities
Of the human race.
Sniff out intelligence, wherever it may linger,
Avoid all the premature gravediggers,
All those flingers of plurabillities,
All those who condemn those who try
To shift the shade, to seek the good in the heart of darkness,
To break free from this all-abiding stupidity.