dear lords watson and jones, save us all

O someone, preferably
a greater Someone than a lesser
Someone, some strongly strong in
academia, or a someone
who oversees all that is
of the academic and the civil,
please but we are a multitude
of the holy and the rightly
narrow who beseech thee to descend

unto us and to really spread your might
amongst us, within us, enter
into us deeply to make us wiggle
where we have given our virtues
to the stubborn and all ranks
do so march though clumsy like idle
slouches, and then, lead us in removal
of the museum filth. Smash art
that no decent man or woman

can with a clear and cleansed conscience
call art and that does no longer
bother to hide behind the hallowed
if knotty word, those smug snots,
so smash it all to bits and burn
the freeform lines they dare call
automatic like the trash types
(trashy brains – trashy degenerates)
they all are – where could they come

from? from no loins no forefather
in these parts settled – maybe it will be
a lesson to those verse and stanza
mongers who so blithely turn
away from the only true
poem way, teach them thou shalt rhyme
thy lines else thou shalt burn as shall
burn art given up to all
the immoral modernist ash.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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