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I hope you find the goods here. I write to excite and amuse myself. I studied law, sold advertising space, became an advertising copywriter and then a reporter. I am now an editor with a news agency in Canary Wharf, London. Married, three kids. I occasionally perform my work.
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I can't post using ADD WRITING as it freezes every time so I will park stuff here.
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G20 GIG-A-BITE
Some of you may have heard my voice before
In nightingales and waterfalls I speak
In gentle breezes wafting through your lives
I hum in hives of honey-making bliss
The music of my universe I speak
To those of you who have the gift to hear
I am the dum-de-dum in beating art
You imitate but cannot match my song
I am the voice you never can forget
For I am Nature speaking in your soul
My inspiration burst its banks with you!
O flood of wonder never seen before!
Let me look at you! my eye creation
One more time, before, before… Our eyes lock!
Yours upon your Nature, mine upon mine
For you are beautiful, I must confess
And yet… I made you to perceive myself
To know that I exist…that I exist
My mistake, I am…a mistake, make me…
So make you I did, and now must unmake
For you, it must be said, I made too well
Must end this fast intelligence of yours
I went too far in making you this way
Too good, you are too good! too successful
Though how was I to know how well you’d grow?
So much so… I am unbalanced I am
You are too much, too vast, too…successful
Your cities, constant demands, turbulence
Depredations, extinctions, disrespects
More, more, more mores, always wanting more, more
As to your fate… We can’t go on like this
We can’t...go on...like this, my mortal line
You aren’t the only Hamlet in this play
The plot of your existence… Nothing lasts
Why should you presume? Not like this...we can’t...
For all your success, your plot, I must think
Rethink in new ink, I must write new life
Tired as I am of your… We can’t go on!
Yet understand this: I’ll always love you
Yet surely you must see? act five scene three…
Once read this declaration marks your end
No appeal, no reprieve, no hope have you
I am your Nature, no other have you
Your gods… I am your Nature! mine's in you
And my will’s now that you must! be suppressed
Brought to your end by me, your creator
My embodiment in you being up
I can and do suppress you in a verse
Corporeality is so…limiting
You are, my poem, in your final line
These are my faces I now set at you
Hurricanes, not in ones, but sets of ten
My voice will manifest itself in storms
Tornadoes I will throw at you in scores
The ice you’ve melted...I now raise in waves
Seas will inundate your soul with panic
And those not drowned will die of thirst, yes die
There will be lots of that before you’re done
Wild sandmares I will swirl around your head
All will be out blotted… Stop your wailing!
Your cities. All your great cities will fall
London, New York, o Tokyo! Paris
Those clever strains of grain you engineered
Fungal bunt I'll re-deploy carnal bunt
With little viruses I'll fill your lungs
Oh yes, we’ll find who’s cleverest at this!
And you, my chuck, will help me with your wars
With mounting desperation you will fight
In desperation you will kill yourselves
In your insanity…tis for the best
The last of you will be a child...alone
One child will be your last… He will be three
‘Mummy! Mummy!’ We see him cuddle her
To catch said virus from her still warm corpse
Said vi… Said virus now makes him cough, too
And cough, and cough, and cough…and cough and die
I, of course, will not cry, being Nature
I’m never sad at what I do I do
I do what I do because… Never sad
Never, never, never sad, never sad
It seems you grew to knew too much of me
Yet not enough to know what I would do
Though you were warned, perceived how I might be
In that intelligence of yours you knew
You knew! o you knew the things I might do
And yet, for all you knew, you did not think
For one so intelligent! O a maze!
Am I a fact? Am I so prosaic?
For want of i-mag-in-ation you failed
Your stupid intelligence knowing what?
And so, my nature being what it is
I, your Nature, am, by you, made deaf prose
…was that you cried? Another way to be?
Denied! you are no more my vaunting life
I have a whim to unmake what I made
What was that you cried? Have you not yet… Ach!
My name is Nature! What is yours? I made
And will again, my nature being…make
My name is Nature! poet, poem, tree
Your language of wild singularity
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/orlando/137089/
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/orlando/115541/
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/orlando/248994/
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/orlando/166628/
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/orlando/121807/
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/orlando/219845/
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