The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 2 | Page 4

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Machine Gun Poetry

by Richard Archer

Poetry is a weapon that I always have ready.

My brain is fully loaded with verbal ammo,

My tongue is always keen to open fire,

I’m ever ready to deal out poetic justice.

I know my combat drill, let’s do it.

I visualize my verse.

I ready my rhyme.

But most importantly,

Once I pick a target,

I don’t recite until I see the whites of their eyes.

Then I never hesitate to unleash poetry,

I let slip my words of war,

Savouring the impact of each phrase fired,

I empty my verse into the target.

Watching them fall with a poem between the eyes.

As my mouth begins to smoke I halt,

Then I flick the safety catch on my couplets.

Pausing my performance,

But remaining vigilant,

Poetry is a weapon and now I’m armed and dangerous.