Andrew Darlington Osset, West Yorkshire poet


I’m not going to write this poem,
I’m through writing poems,
I’m leaving this poem 
for someone else to write,
I start by burning to change the world,
now the world changes around me
in strange and unexpected ways,
I refuse to write this poem,
let it write itself in blood and anger,
I’ve done the readings in backroom bars
the M1 hard-nose hitchhike down to Soho
done the cut-&-paste riot punk-zines
with real scissors sniffing real glue
done the getting high and all the lows
the bare-floor cold beds and overnight girls
the acid folk-rock bi-friends with benefits,
the solidarity for this protest against that
the jazz Beat gurus and Dada-shock porn,
the new worlds of sweat and BeBop wired
to cellular connections into eternity,
but I’m not gonna write this poem,
I’m through writing poems,
words won’t come together
they retch like vomit in my throat,
in a time of darkening dreams
poems must ignite the sky, but
it’s time for someone else to write them,
I’m not going to write this poem…

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Andrew Darlington is a poet and ephemera bloodhound residing in Ossett, which in the first millennium was part of the Kingdom of Elmet.