Our good friend Totalfeckineejit continues to navigate new territory with his Poetry Bus. This week its all about the big question. As Prince might put it; Dearly beloved / We are gathered here today
2 get through this thing called life / Electric word life / It means forever and that's a mighty long time / But I'm here 2 tell u
There's something else / The afterworld.
So, in the spirit of the ehhhh.... spirit, I give you;
Silver
This ill wind they talk about
that blows some good about the place
while making a hames of all in its path
- you know the one? I think it's on the way.
My worry is this - how to get a grip
on the benevolent margins of the thing
without being swept up in the chaos.
Sounds easy, doesn't it?
No. Not really, you say.
That sounds tricky as hell.
You'd have to be some class of stormchaser
decked out with sensors, anemometers
Shining colanders with flashing lights
a wig of wires to helmet yourself
beneath the fury
- improve your chances, like?
Perhaps a freelance synaesthete for good measure
sifting various temperatures of threat
aflame under rosepaned spectacles
rating risk by hue
the findings a flittered book of scribble
to be reviewed once the storm has fled
and the land calmed.
© P Nolan 2010
GLADIATOR 2 IS VIOLENT BUT RARELY IF EVER DEPRAVED
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