Norman Deplumbe Poem
The curse of verse, at worst subversive,
Cursive, ad lib, tragic,
The means defines scenes, supreme beings let off steam,
Beauty queens daydream of magic.
Sense of place, being part of the tribe,
Strangers for whom, in that moment, we'd die,
Hypnotised by the lies,
Buy the lies, Buy Buy BUY.
They say that language makes these creatures noble,
(Though global, antisocial music mogul has you at his disposal)
And whilst it can be, I fully agree,
I put this to thee and hope ye can see.
With that in mind, defence of rhyme, a light to shine, to reassign
Must be a risky business, this vision, this mission,
Spitting on tradition
Commission with precision and wisdom, not premonition.
T'other condition of these lines, repetitions are declined,
Treating then as being malign or as a sign that you're not try'n'
Language naturally evolves, as new issues need resolved
And the duty on us all is to adopt this protocol.
So be counted,
Stand up tall,
I'm saying employ your wherewithal
Because in fact it's vital, survival of the fittest
Evolution overlooks and observes the dying witless
The rival is the other witness,
Seeing his rivals diminish.
That that is, and ever was, once wasn't,
And is will be a was because it Doesn't..
Copyright © Norman dePlumbe | Year Posted 2022