This Poetry

(with apologies to Benjamin Zephaniah).

 

What’s it all about, then, this poetry?

Why d’you bother?

 

To loosen the noose of expendability;

To give us a sense of innate creativity;

To get that hissing out of our head,

 

onto a page then onto some stage

a clumsy home-made arrowhead

poking people’s abilities.

 

A weapon made of sense and rhythms,

words and images in hardworking patterns

making new meaning like noisy trees

 

in silent forests, previously unheard or unseen.

Once out and about and out

of our control, no longer mine

 

but a Frankenstein thought,

limping off its slab, lunging at apathy,

washed down with beer, wine or even tea.

 

We want this poetry.

We want this poetry.

We want this poetry, badly.

 

This poetry might keep you awake at 4am.

This poetry might lead to mistakes, which then,

in turn might lead to people you’d never have met.

 

So, no regrets, no safe bets,

because sometimes safety ceases to matter

if your head’s already spinning, in tatters,

 

stressed, distressed, self-confessed

misfits, mistaken for mischief makers,

rather than chemical miracles in the image of a creator.

 

We need this poetry.

We need this poetry.

We need this poetry, badly,

 

Like a man needs a plan,

like a band needs a van,

like a light needs a night,

like your dog needs a walk,

like a nation needs compassion,

like I need retro fashion,

like Real Madrid need a few more tankings,

like Boris Johnson needs a spanking.

 

We want this poetry.

We want this poetry.

We want this poetry to go

 

deeper, even deeper

than an ocean trench,

in search of life as we don’t know it yet;

 

or fun and shallow

as a spur of the moment paddle;

this is the job of the poet.

 

This poetry might rhyme.

This poetry might scan.

This poetry might do damage in the wrong hands.

 

This poetry might lift you,

This poetry might gift you

opportunities as yet unseen or unknown.

 

This poetry might even make you so bold

as to have a go.

Yourself. Yes. YOU!

 

We want this poetry.

We want this poetry.

We want this poetry. Now.