In one of the poetry workshops I attended at the Geneva Writers Conference, we were encouraged to allow our minds to amble aimlessly like a camel, to allow words to come to us. Here is my result (on a topic which is obviously becoming a bit of an obsession with me). I am linking it to dVerse Poets’ much-loved and always interesting Open Link Night, which should be starting this evening (European time).
The straitjackets of corporates I seek to embellish
with jewel-coloured scarves.
The coffin-planks of business jargon I scrape on emery boards
to soften with a smile.
Within the gnarl of strategic progression I untangle
a few words that buzz
– raw and angry – Swiss army knives shredding my pocket
they clamour for rebirth
shimmering Morganas, outside and beside their utilitarian desert.
I undress them
watch them shiver
hear them groan and misbehave.
Done with coaxing I am cruel.
Beseech no more I point the way.
Take no prisoners, gloves are off.
Yet their world of cloned rabbits have leeched me out of colour.
Discipline is my undoing.
My words jump through endless monochrome hoops
how they conform
how they confirm
docility is taking over the circus.