Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Letter to a 4am fan


Given your pride's so clearly in safe hands
What should I read of your shyness
Coy lioness?
To analysis I shan't digress
For all that way is silliness, unless
A rustle in the grass, a scent
I can but wish
In innocence and jest I ask.
What causes you to slink
I wish you'd come confess.
It must be changing metres
Or where I put the stress.
You must have fixed on Cheetahs
Or be vulnerable I guess.

This verse is always yours,
Use it for whatever purpose
If you would that there be more be
Close, come, make others
Superlative, make others
Superfluous
This verse is always yours.

A rustle in the grass
No teeth or claws, I can but muse
Excuse me this
Many souls walk the streets of London
Wishing that they'd played their trumps
Does Carnival, oh mind altering insubstantial
Oh seam of muse
Oh rich vein 
Unmined
Does Carnival and the throbbing street
Touch you only skin deep
Were you once touched deeper
Once touched deeper
Oh and that time flew
Call it shallow
Call me shallow
I know that's not enough for you. ;-)

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