You say potato, but then again so do I (except of course when abroad, wherein they have many names for what is after all, just a spud) So can it be surprising then, when you see a step ladder and I see a balcony, a husting stump for the dress rehearsal of a Judy/Mickey musical number, or the immovable representation of an existential challenge in the story arc of a rather bleak and confusing though emotionally charged piece of Brechtian theatre? Let’s put on a show!
I could always write on trains they bring urgency to every word I rattle over junctions with ease mysteries to solve prove childsplay and the destination closer with each line, the world flying backwards faces and forms met for a moment as my mind speeds forwards tracks forcing my perspective to the final stop….
of little birds my heart is made though it cannot soar, it flies in ways that winds can fathom not and through the hardest rains reply by taking wing despite the days that try in vain to spirits break so in my heart these birds do sing and of its clay a soul can make.
He tempered his poetry to his heart words metered to his life’s blood but as he thought upon her all sense of the iambic (or dactylic for that matter) was lost in a pulse no sense of breath could control and all scansion disappeared from his attempted verse
Ten little monkeys drinking barley wine one staggered onto train tracks and then there were nine Nine little monkeys in a gun control debate one lost his head a bit and then there were eight Eight little monkeys eating scones in Devon one choked on a raisin and then there were seven Seven little monkeys on the hunt for sixties chicks One copped off with Twiggy and then there were six Six little monkeys going for a drive One picked up a dodgy hitchhiker and then there were five Five little monkeys swinging on a door one got his little fingers trapped and then there were four Four little monkeys went together for a pee one had a zipper accident and then there were three Three little monkeys flinging round their poo one had some tummy trouble and then there were two Two little monkeys playing the long con they screwed each other over and then there was one One little monkey sitting in a tree tapping out this little rhyme as that last monkey is me.