| LONE REARRANGER | |
| [used as performance poetry demonstration in workshops] | |
|
Dinesh Allirajah | |
|
Whoops! There goes another rubber tree plant Past my youth but still I’m an infant Osmosis supposes I’ve a lot to learn Miss Ross has left the building so now it’s my turn You may call me dusky, maybe inscrutable Ethereral facts, concrete and irrefutable Hammer home your point but I’m a bent nail Hard to pin down so you’re bound to fail Establishing the truth you perceive it’s all changed But I’m a short-changer Lone Re-Arranger Stranger than fiction In fact, deranged I started on a tangent but I found myself sidetracked Tried to be obscure but ended up abstract Thought I was a journeyman, became a fellow traveller Couldn’t spell but then Abracadabra! I mastered the tongue of my master before me Took the words right out his mouth and he never saw me My terms were seasoned when I spat them back Polish abolished, limitations I lack Like an animated mannequin, a Caliban unchained And I’m the avenger Lone Re-Arranger Stranger than fiction In fact, deranged Coconut whisky inside my hip-flask Got no silver bullet and I don’t wear a mask The only hoarse I know is that the end of each rhyme Serendipity call me sublime No copyright, I don’t own the air But don’t bank on what I saw because the action’s elsewhere And I’m enigmatic, bizarre, disingenuous I’d go berserk but the work’s too strenuous Instead I leak like gas and then I go up in flames I’m a hidden danger Lone Re-Arranger Stranger than fiction In fact, deranged Last verse ... I got high hopes for the finish Summon up more strength than Popeye on spinach Wail like a Stradivarius but not highly-strung They say verbosity’s wasted on the young Lyrical fantasizing’s a calling for life I’m butter, words are a knife Images collide within a cut-up lexicon Rhythms so greasy they’ll fuel a pantechnicon Enough of a charge to launch a military campaign But I’m a disclaimer Lone Re-Arranger Stranger than fiction In fact, deranged | |