Tuesday, March 28, 2006

On Nothing

It was nowhere to be found.
Instead, it lurked everywhere,
Somewhere, anywhere, kitchenware
Abiding in the hem of your shirt like a flea,
Too small to locate, springy and elusive,
Biting you on the wrist just under your watch,
How did it get under there? And while I was asleep!

You can learn to ignore it if you wish
You can go to evening classes – you’re
Taught exercises – yoga of the mind:
Bend all your thoughts the other way, they say,
And drink some of this special yoghurt milk.
It’s darned like a legging – of mock-sock-silk
And weaved in the Alps, by mountain ilk.
“Twaddle, drivel!” I say, “They’ll only bilk
You out of tonnes of dosh and fly-by-night
Before you realise you’re wrong and I’m right”

The lark in the tree is nowhere near me,
If it was I wouldn’t know, I’m no bird
Watcher – nor have I any avian
Erudition – I’m more of a fish’man,
Sifting the waves for my dutiful prey
Parking my boat in the beautiful bay,
Stinking of fish at the end of the day,
Dancing the deck like a goat astray.
My ignorance of rural life could fill
A warehouse, a whorehouse, a mouse house a…
House. I can go on and on and on, I
Can pick my nose like a pro, yes I can

And from my nose did all this spew
Yes that above, the nonsense too.
It must have, I didn’t write it
I found it in my nasal cavities.
Right! Enough of this. I’m off to play the piano.


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