Naval-gazing

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This poem is entitled ‘Metametaphors’
or ‘an Ode to Odes that are also Odes to Odes’
or ‘Poetry, you need to stop wanking in public’:

Poetry, I love you
but you need to stop wanking in public.
It’s distasteful. Disturbing. Downright embarrassing.
And it needs to stop.
You’ve always been a self-interested art form
introspecting now and then
but this is a step too far.
It started innocently enough
playing devil’s advocate
introspecting now and then
-behind closed doors-
but now you’re introducing whole extended metaphors
just to tear them to shreds
toying with meter only to throw it away
like an iamb to the slaughter
all to show us all how ‘free-spirited’ you are
and I don’t think even you know what level of irony you’re operating on now.
Naval-gazing, psychoanalyzing where everyone can see
is this supposed to be… kinky?
Because I’m not feeling it.
This isn’t foreplay, this is a public vivisectomy.

Sorry, but you can think too much about things sometimes
and poetry, you don’t need to try this hard to impress me.
You can do so much with just a flick of the word
so have a little confidence
and some patience.
Be clear, and slow down.
There can be magic behind the curtain
if you show us just a
bit
at a time.
Give us some credit, and a little mystery.
But most of all… poetry?
You need to stop wanking in public.
It’s embarrassing.

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