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False Idylls

Because I'm feelin' brave, here's an example of what I laughingly call poetry. This piece was originally published in a slightly different form in a now-defunct printzine called atmosfearics, way back in 1983.

False Idylls

the revolution will be televised
the revelations will be disseminated by covert action
read between the lines
disinformation will be commonplace
this information will be available for public display
in keeping with the signs of the times
the revolution will be available at your local video store
its evolution will be in conversation and hidden passions
you will be told where to go for more information
disinclination will be no excuse
this inclination will be made available to the local networks for instant replay
Tonight!

Marching, charging, surging, curving
bearing truths, and so unswerving
largely barging, herding burdens
speaking in tongues, and so, unnerving
the revolution will not march on little cat feet
though its aims may seem a trifle foggy to the uninitiated

The revolution will not be colorized
The disputation won't be quashed by network sanctions
dissatisfaction won't be bastardized
this satisfaction won't be gained at the expense of our children's days
but by the sweat of our brows
a restitution will be undergone
exasperation will be rededicated by inverse flexion
come just as you are
disapprobation will be frowned upon
this approbation will be intentionally overplayed
all night long

Grunting, jumping, lunging, sponging
crime rate's up, retention's plunging
skimpy pimping stinking thinking
booted up, the network's linking
the revolution will not turn on a dime
though donations will be gratefully accepted

the revolution will overthrow the status quo
the corporations will be deregulated by negative cashflow
we'll be good to go
inarticulation will be commonplace
this articulation will be ubiquitous and prominently displayed
why not make a stand
the disenfranchised will be mobilized
the misbegotten will be unforgotten and unafraid
great yet still unwashed outside
and in canyons of steel and glass, the herd will march on the head of a pin
and air their dirty laundry again and again
until that discoloration will seem commonplace
and the hues will be red white blue and gray
and indeed all the sixteen million tints of the rainbow
for the world is not black and white, nor gray, but a technicolor show
the revolution will be brought to you in wide-screen surround
damn near lifelike, a theater in the round

Never complain, never explain
Do what you must, excuse our dust
Never apologize
Notwithstanding understanding
Beg to differ with the gipper
Win one for us
The revolution won't be fought with swords
Slurping, chirping, lurking, jerking
Winging, thinging, pinging, singing
ambiguous and unrelenting
spreading pending gender bending
roles reversing and revolving
the evolution of the revolution beginning

The revolution is electric
eclectic
respect it, reflect it
respective directives:
inflected invective
querulous, perilous
garrulous, careless and hairy
the revolution is intention
emotion
commotion, explosion
intoning baloney can only be phony and fixed
watch the parking meters for signs of the apocalypse
by the light of the setting sun

Comments

wuh oh, duane the poet!

It was actually pretty good. I don't know anything about poetry mechanics so I can't comment there, but I liked it anyhow.
 
Whoah! That was a good romp, Moderan. Was thinking how I'd like to be in your head for a bit, and then realized, I just had.
 

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