The Tawdry Apostrophe (Extended Metaphor) Part 1
Prologue
Alas not just the pure search, and procreative struggle of poetry
can a hood over psyche’s head put, and stumble out prison security
but attitudes to communication generally, particularly where it is difficult.
So let’s see, is my “Apostrophe” condescending self-indulgence
hiding behind an erudite popularism? (I have been told so.)
Something tawdry, base, inferior, unworthy of me and the world the poorer?
(I fear so.)
Or light verse ironic ephemera, gone tomorrow, raw rashly
attempting to self-justify, with cynical political expedience?
You are my referee and reviewer, for I fear indolence
and my political enemies’ public backlash, imperialist violence as prosody. Let us relive that first lesson in primer one, eyes wonder
it’s Mum and milk, and off-to-school, you’re nearly five.
Waiting no longer is lay priest, Jack of all, and local discretion
from national goals; but word builder, identity layer, English teacher!
This modern English teacher, the pride of political correctness
in whom impossible a sadistic tendency should reside unguessed
by deep criminal record checking, multi-panel personality vetting.
One of life’s little ironies then, in the hive of social progress
that the poison should be hidden in the lesson.