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| Hate is a Paradelle | |
| By Katanga | ||||
| 23 April 2008 | ||||
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Ha! Ha! Ha! This is fiendish - for a full explanation of the form, please see Nathan's detailed explanation of his brilliant 'Love is a Paradelle'. Why not try it? The constraints of the form take your images off in all sorts of weird directions! And Ho! Against all expectations, I'm still alive! Yo! However, I nearly died in the process, sitting on the loo this afternoon . . . But, Yo! I'm still miraculously alive! Heavily copying Nathan, this tries to parody his own parody of the parody of the 'villanelle' in an obscurely tortuous form. If I've lost you there, please see his original work! I thought it was impossible . . . But all (!) you need to do is to find some words which will double-up grammatically, e.g. a plural noun that can be a third-person singular verb (houses) etc etc etc Exhausted - will now crack open another bottle of cheap red, and wait in hope for some side-splitting reviews. Anyway, Cheers Nathan! I hope much banter and jolliness will follow . . .
Hate is a Paradelle
Hate is like holding vultures in your fist Hate is like holding vultures in your fist Aching to see you blocked in a drain Aching to see you blocked in a drain Holding a blocked fist is like your vultures in a drain To see aching Hate in you. Hate is the sewage where dreams are destroyed Hate is the sewage where dreams are destroyed And sewers are things behind the houses And sewers are things behind the houses Behind things are dreams where the sewage Houses Hate. And are the sewers destroyed? Hate is just hurling thought against my will Hate is just hurling thought against my will In dreaming, impossible to dream In dreaming, impossible to dream Just will against Hate! The dream Is in hurling thought - impossible dreaming . . . Aching to see the sewage, and holding you, dreaming, To dream in a blocked will, destroyed behind Where sewers are like my drain. Your fist houses the vultures, Things hurling against the thought 'Hate is Hate'. Is Hate Hate? Just impossible dreams . . .
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