28 February 2009

Faked Transports Of Joy (rev)

joy

what a blast
what a sodden farce
of dripping snotty drivel

an egoistic critic ‘quills’
a leery parse of gooey praises
words which reek of rutted phrases
grandiose and desolate
words imbued in wanton sleaze
of ceaseless self-abusive feats
of gross intemperance

the stink is of the rotting places rank
decayed and leeched for wages
pandered at the foot of verse we knew
was bad before this malefactor rang
with scribing gesture wafting hands
theatrically engendered deep and
mystic messages in sham duplex
ejaculations of duplicity

and we’re supposed to somersault
through gaudy hoops and beam with
gratitude in faked transports of joy –
radiating ersatz glee in nacre
rays of iridescent energy?
© 2005, I.D. Carswell