"Gyres run on" as W.B. Yeats would say.
On what?
Electricity, presumably. Or gas. Possibly petrol. Methylated spirits, even.
They'd need to be!
I'm not so sure. I suspect methylated metaphysics would do.
Do what?
Well — er — not a lot. Gyrate.
Really.
No.
When I have seen by Time's fell hand debased
The rich-proud loss of outworn buried dung,
When sometimes language structures are replaced,
Grammatically from the mortal tongue.
When I have seen the hungry bison gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
I yawn exhausted suffering in my brain,
For writing high-flown sonnets is a chore.
When I have seen such international hate,
Or spoken many times of mystic health,
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate
That Time will make a godalmighty belch.
This thought is as a death which cannot fog,
We bring you "Famous People on the Bog".
Shall I compare thee to a pile of —
OH, SHUT UP NOW!
And if a little more patience you would have
We'd bring you "Famous People on the Lav".
Enough of such parodic poetic pieces — not to mention alliteration.
There once was a philosophical debate
Whose force would not abate
It raged and it raged
All night it savaged
But its strength lay in its sanity rebate.
There's nothing quite like philosophy
And I'm sure you will agree
I'd sooner go on a shopping spree
To the island of Tahiti.
(I think my entry had best cease [and by that I should indicate — that is, imply somewhat directly (directement) — some form of ending (τελος) in a final sense of sorts, kinds, types] here, there, or everywhere... I refer my reader to Signifiers, Existentialism and Xylophones...)
Very dry and witty.
A chap whose metatext parodic
Was cryptic, ludic and ironic,
Condescending, amused,
Was really confused
And inclined to give up and say "Sod it!"
A young man whose reactioning stance
Would give no new notion a chance
Found himself mistaken —
The shock was heart-breaking
And he was overcome by différrance.
O hark! How weird! How green and beard
The lawns of elfland faintly mowing!
The drizzle falls on shopping malls
And out-of-town Tesco superstores
The long rain drips on monthly trips
To the cash-and-carry with Uncle Barry.
Go, Volvo, go! Set the wild echoes flying.
Go, Volvo — Radio 2 is dying, dying, dying.
4 Tennyson read Benetton.
Half a league, half a league, half a league onward
Into the Food Hall rode the six hundred
Cans to the right of them, cans to the left of them
Some with baked beans in them
Others with stew!
Why is thy pride so brimming with new verse?
In various more or less appropriate forms?
Because, though gibberish, it could be worse
Beset with "fact" and ideological norms.
Let all the world in every corner sing —
Elated because we are raving mad
Thou art as well — fish changes everything
Ontology and plumbing. I'm quite glad
Yet sorry for this startling interruption
Obsessed almost by crisis existential
Undone, the text is still self referential
Though lacking in the "D"-word; its corruption
Writes itself down as signifiers do
O meta-stuff and WIBBLE TO YOU TOO!
