~
when the pens run out ( tuo nur snep eht nehw )
…
it’s pencils instead
if the paper’s still okay
until the graphite’s gone
like a singing swan
& then they burn the trees
coz books contain paper
& paper comes from trees
growing like money
as the future is a boot
but the muses will insist
then chalk upon the yard
pausing for hopscotch
or carve upon stone
a hieroglyphic haiku
cuneiform prose
the shape of a coma
until all stones are cancelled
& drawing boards beckon
the answer is madness
a squashing of bug’s blood
a dash of silverfish
a healthy splosh of cockroach
grey like a sunday
on white asylum walls
…
( author notes )
i’m planning to buy wordpress
for a fiver & a big bag of revels
watch this space
( any day now – they’ll cave )
…