Poem

grab a pew…



Mildly unamused Libran Tree Surgeons,

frenetic Phrenologists,

diabetic Numerologists.





Liquid Petroleum Gasp enthusiasts,

Mesolithic Mendicants,

all Entities great & sentinent.





Including

secret-mitten-knitters,

Visigoth staticians

plus the Venerable Lamashtu

- grab a pew

...

hobbyist apocalypse

 

  • The Campanologists decided
  • to end with a clang

defy the essence of time

in chimey unison rang.





The Philatelists pored & ogled through

their Stanley Gibbons books

whilst licking the front of their favourites

& shedding tears - with final goodbye looks.





The Ikebanists they seemed to

at last lose their powers

so now devoid of their Dark-Witchcraft

unarranged lovely flowers.





Plus the poet-lot simply wrote on

as all shit crumbled & evil winds blew

oceans drowned & mountain ranges tumbled

but their stray words dreamed

of dawns anew

...

auguries of tinnitus

I don't remember the Stone Age

or the Bronze Age

for that matter

;

I've never even heard of Rosencratz,

that Mastodon

or wiped out the Quagga.





Loose tiles on a vile Shrovetide

bits of brisk gale

& shards of dark shatter

-

no, sorry I don't own that nosedive

plus I've never seen toads fly

fuck off now

& scatter

...

legerdemain(ia)


We Spell your many names

- we do

on assortments

of blank A4 pads,

neat pumice & tattered rags,

scribbled ink hand's;

riddles yet to understand.





We try to remember them all

in order

before they're once more

rearranged

compelled by forces

varied & strange

- we Spell your many names

...