i was wrong when i said poetry is dead, i'm more right in saying that poetry is ****** - everyone's eager to lip-up and de-numb the english stiff upper-lip with rhymes; but poetry became overly technical, and the study of it became an abomination in terms of dissection, unnatural medicine: too technical, too rigid as to be conscious of techniques by way of defining what poetry is... hence most schoolchildren put off by it... too technical, too grammatically-akin-to-technique laden... but i ask you, have you ever paid an extra £10 to a ******* to perform oral *** on her? have you ever eaten this forbidden fruit, and later kissed her lips? have tasted the forbidden flower, oiled up prior with cream to ensure that even if she's not in the mood she's still working and can provide the synthetic ***** juices of arousal? have you? we'll have a chat when you do, after eating that forbidden fruit, and then becoming a thief by kissing her against those absurd codes of conduct of prostitution.

this is the only method i see fit
for filtering our scientific facts
and going at it alone:
mishearing lyrics of songs,
turning them into humble mumble,
like in the song *alive alone
by the chemical brothers from the
album exit planet dust...
'and she shines, she shoe-shines for me...'
then the stitches on the abdomen
and a Chelsea grin...
my grandfather worked in the steelworks,
happily retired after being a brigadier
on one of the production lines,
resory (springs) for trains and tanks
and steel pillars for the stade de france,
pretending to be death, but actually
filtering out what he wants to hear -
you know, after years of working
among sounds of clatter and clamour
hammering and molten iron sizzling -
older men have the benefit of the doubt
of others, seeing old age gracefully,
while old men have the benefit of denial;
and indeed true virtue isn't afraid
of critique... it's afraid of compliments...
the last to learn this are actors
who loath hecklers...
if i were an actor, i'd ask a heckler to come
on stage and act with me,
i'd become the sufler (prompter);
ever heard of the band (the) prompter's booth?
you know, in theatre, the guy in a shady
place unseen with a manuscript whispering
out lines to actors should they forget them...
thank god politicians have the autocue...
because imagine in the democratic model
how many people would have to fit
into the prompter's booth, and they'd hardly
whisper out lines for the grand act...
they'd be screaming like lunatics criticisms.