Today, Steve offered the hand of friendship to a careworn shelf stacker in Lidl. He (Steve) informed the acne-chinned youth that root vegetables should be stored in brown paper bags rather than plastic wrappers. The lad (improbably named Che) shrugged and plugged his i-pod earphones back in. He made it clear that he had no interest at all in listening to the wisdom of his elders.
Later, in the Dried Goods aisle, a Brussell sprout hit Steve on the back of the neck. This is what we get for joining the European Union; small, nutritious, British vegetables being utilised as missiles.
Steve complained to the manager, a surly woman past her best. She yawned and said, “I’ll add it to all your other complaints, Mr Ego.”
Still, a poet’s life is not an easy path. Was not Byron the subject of the slings and arrows of misfortune? The odd parsnip or Jersey Royal ricocheting from his bardic bonce?
The poet’s role in life is to prick the conscience of Society and, if occasionally, that makes Him a scapegoat for the spotty youths and surly harpies who populate the highways and byeways of Wirral, well, then He is proud to suffer for His art!
Wandering in the Wilderness
(A poem by Steve Ego)
This last world
and a little one to boot,
atop a beauty, it seemed offered,
and impacts heroicistic and poetistic to
But no word – however it is returned –
skies – or no – of which we can be sure.
This is but a short human life everyone has
(including dwarves and midgets –
for are we not all the Children of Light?)
and a small number* can comprise
the point of the centre mortalistic.
Haddock, tock, haddock.
We waste the time now and thus doth times’s refusals.
Haddock, tock, Haddock.
Thus, it is that we doth plow over in the tracks metaphoristic
only repetition of volume of the individualistic, futuristic
and violentistic commandos have paradoxicallistic
cause to a world of the diminished attractions …
Ours is not eatable!
And the single faith’s still raising.
In humanistic autonomy,
guide-dogs of our destiny
are but a false notion!
Yea! And verily!
Stupid this that always leads to weevils.
(Copyright Steve Ego)
* no pun intended