Big Society Solutions For A Sustainable And Responsible Europe

[wasted space]
From QE4 all poems shall be cut sensitively and responsibly.
All egregious poem-waste must be emphatically reduced by profound percent.

Please note Big Society(B.S) must set the intention to eliminate
all the underutilised wasted spaces between words,
Including the profligate misusage of entire lines of ostentatious emptiness between verses.
And honestly, when was that ever a good idea?
For example, see this space?

Shameful.
One verse - one thought: one poem.
All poetry from now on shall be actioned thus:
One verse - one thought: one poem.

The elimination of between-word vacuum:
In poets' bling, space between words,
Should help reduce our in-dwelling toxic national debt viably;
Fewer words and fewer spaces between words means debt reduction.

Eventually all "the words"(t.w) must go:
Words are extraneaous imposters, getting in the way of delivering poetry efficiently.
(Please don't swallow their propaganda).
One would hope a day will come when the good poem will consist only of its title,
Blended by licensed Immutable-Sound Procurers,
Delivering the tender sound of thought, the one thought pure, thus:
No verse - one thought - one sound: poem.

And the poetry of one day will become itself so efficient,
Its raison d'etre will surely be annihilation of itself,
And who would argue with the ineffable poetry of that?
No thought - no poem - no sound: 
Poem.
Done.
Beautiful.

Blowing away the cobwebs of text;
The hyperbole of the hypertext of poetry elevated to no text:
The purest hypertext.

Perhaps, perhaps,
If only ancient Greek poets had imagineered such prudent economies,
But their poems became so big they simply weren't allowed to fail.

So,
Please write me a Japanese poem on these bagpipes.

..mmnnu..nhhnumm..hh

Yeah, that'll do..

By The Gaze Of My Goldfish A Ballet Dancer In A Spaceship Pirouettes Bubbling Gravity

I've written a,
Poem.
This one.

I'm not sure,
If it's,
Oh, you know - any good?
Do you think it's..

??.., 

Don't worry. I know, I know;
It's all so..so..

..when I've recited my poem to my pet goldfish..
Yes you heard right, my pet goldfish,
He nods his head for three human seconds whole,
Then he swims around inside his little glass universe,
Musing and acontemplative.

Acontemplative -
What a word!

Round and round he goes,
Five or six times he goes.
Then,
Like he's been bolt-blue-struck by lightning,
He mermaids; vaulting, water-winging:
A ballet dancer in a spaceship pirouettes bubbling gravity..

His gaze just floors me..
Water floods his eyes.
Oh those water-flooding eyes..

He is the goldfish with water in his eyes.

So we flow, we flood, we glow.
I willingly recite this poem again for my devoted goldfish,
Easily generating the same emotional feeling so it doesn't come off as rote.
(I'm no hack stand-up poet gruelling in some lucrative, 
but ultimately soul-destroying poetry arena tour.
I hope and pray that will never happen to me,
And if I'm not careful, it could,
I know it could.)

The goldfish and I reiki duplex-hours hourglass.
He swims,
He stops,
I recite this poem,
He gazes up at me for three human-seconds whole,
Then swims around his little glass universe musing, acontemplative..

Oh and how his little puppy-like gaze floors me.
I feel privilileged to be floored thus by the gaze of my goldfish.
(Please imagine for one moment,
A poetry-loving, puppy-eyed goldfish,
Living inside a goldfish-bowl-universe gazing through a tear.
I know you can do it,
Close your eyes and imagine..
..with water in his eyes..ayearning..)
Ayearning..

Ayearning -
What a word!
With real water flooding in his eyes..

We become this for hours and hours..
It's so lovely..

So both of us end up with water in our eyes,
Like we're overwhelming ourselves,
But in a good way -
Not like Tony Blair.

I'm a man.
I cannot display my emotions to a woman,
Quite as freely as I can to my beloved goldfish.
And I'm not sure if that's a good thing,
Or a bad thing,
For my goldfish.

For my goldfish,
If I was a traditional haiku poet,
Here I would observe,
That my goldfish has the scent of cherry blossoms,
But I'm not,
So I can't..

Don't they say that goldfish can't understand poetry?
Well they would, wouldn't they?
Goldfish being such a modest bird..

Spam-Cream Koan

Give a man some spam and you'll feed him for a day.
Teach a man to phish and he'll spam you for a lifetime.

Mystical Obstetrics

Another politician preganant with vision -
Another apparition for the obstetrician.

Not Dead On Twitter

You wait ages,
Then one dead celebrity arrives at the same time.

After a devastated moment or two of unfathomable reflection,
The Real Living Celebrity compere's their thought:
Twitter!

Lock and load.
Lodestar and embiggen.
Gurn!      

......Liked (18,002)

For where your attention goes..

Abdominize catharsis:
Eulogise with as many as 140 characters.
It's a competitive crucible this Community of Loss:
Boldly sad.

The fabulist Jedi Mourners.
Formula One soundbite emoticon emissionaries :'(
You too can join them, 
And experience the evident joy of marketing your mourning ;)

..so that prompts me to mention I cannot even begin to focus on promoting my new-new book incidentally out tomorrow so please not now not now I don't know why I even mention it..

Waving,
Drowning the gone.
Only the clamour of waves.
Only the clamour of waves is on.

Personally I'm also a little devastated:
I will never be the celebrity friends' dead.
I feel a genuine sense of loss;
Incomprehensibles far beyond words die in my simmering reliquary,
There no deliquescing celebrity shall seep to curate me,
On Twitter.

On Twitter,
They won't vent around my eco-pyre,
Valiantly tweet-viraling their gainful torment,
As my soul shift-phases to some fading cosmic goddess meme.

..so that prompts me to mention I cannot even begin to focus on promoting my new-new book incidentally out tomorrow so please not now not now I don't know why I even mention it..
Did I say that already?

So,
When you're not dead on Twitter,
You're dead.
And that's dead in the really bad way.