Saturday 1 June 2019

when did i join the circus, ma’ma?

we live in such stirring and creative times
how can i write one-dimensional poems?
first let us bring in a rousing symphony orchestra and
winds sweeping around the highest peaks of
the Great Mountains as a soundtrack
then start writing verses imbued with the breath of grandiose statements
laced with the declamatorics of state of the nation addresses
it can’t be called a poem if there is no drum and bass
beating through its buttocks
it requires william kentridge charcoal drawings
a company of opera singers
for their resounding vocal cords are just the thing
and seeing that we are going for drama
have the stanzas adorned with
spectacular costumes and headdresses
and of all things DO NOT read it sitting down
incantate it with the voice of an inspirational speaker
a mix of voices of a president, a toast (coetzer) master, a rapper,
‘n kaapsevlakte ou and a shakespeare actress
no time for looking down on any papers
that is just distracting frippery
each word needs to be memorised into your skin
(but not to worry: in case of lapse, a prompter will mouth your words)
AND remember: lots of arm movement
you can only go on if you have groupies in
the form of likers, tweeters,
instagrammers, hashtaggers and share-holders
DO NOT forget your audience from afar
always keen to be cyber-rubbing-shoulders with you
AND a have-to-have is your entourage of photographers and videographers
that record your every syllable and frown
(note to editor: zooming in with slow motion on that sweat droplet
on the upper lip and bring in stills in vintage colours, otherwise no go)
and stating the obvious, we will hire that very bearded dude
who adjusts the height of your mic
keeps your drink and nerves stirred but not shaken
and gives you a hirsute kiss just before you utter your first syllable
when the cue is given turn up the volume of
that symphony orchestra and whirling winds around
the high peaks of your metaphors
throw in a singing line and dance step or two
you will be the coolest thing out
who wants the fine sensibilities of quiet metaphors
if you can join the 21st century circus?!

...and all this time you thought you were doing poetry?!

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