Poem: The BookShelf

Okay, so

If you'd ever come into the FreeWord Centre Cafe, you'd see they had bookshelves on their wall. Eight feet tall bookshelves.

Here's a picture:

No, there aren't many tall people lurking about the FreeWord Centre. We don't have Lanky parties, we're not scared of mice, our doors aren't all arches, we don't play basketball between dinner/reading Proust. Fair to say no one without a ladder/Broomsticks/Marty McFly style hoverboards will be reaching any of those books soon, which sort of gives the shelf a 'what is thouest point,' kind of vibe in my eyes.

I wrote a poem about it. See below.

It was a decent Thurday,

there's me in the FreeWord cafe

on my laptop

thinking crap up

for a write up

on my blogspot,

ginger beer in left hand,

in the other facebook.

I look over the hedge of my shoulder

My face goes grim, I furrow my brow deep

there's a book shelf on the wall opposite and me

and it have got beef

Yes, I got beef with a shelf

It's no ordinary shelf

It's a twelve foot something tall shelf

And I have a problem with it

NOT EVEN IF I STRETCH MY HAND CAN I REACH THAT PROMISED LAND

Can I reach it's summit I can';t even touch it's bum it's

like it's been designed by a lankiest of Gollums

to keeps it's preciouses from us thieving hobbitsizs Y

would they make a shelf that tall I'm

sure no malice was intended

in this literary palace might be wrong tho,

maybe it's intended for literary giants

sailing through london in SUV

walking on carpets made of WBYEATS

in their sabretooth fur

with slippers made of broken promises

downing lattes on first sip, and swallow rabbits whole

each shoulder a fresh new talent

sporting bunny ears.

Seriously, it's the literary equivalent of a cocktease

look as much as you want, honey but you are not getting these's

oh yeah, there are reachable books in the foyer

but that's like vanity publishing, SO not the point

I want them books in that cafe

them books I can't reach.

Even tho I kno them books don't look that good,

them books very second hand, properly read

like cheap hookers

and butter on bread

that shit's been properly spread

very shanky and hood like

I seen some Dan browns in there

Dan browns never is a good look

Maybe that's what the shelf is saying

we're decaying our standards by putting

shitty books on pedestals

Building shrines in shadow of a twelve foot something shelves

is bound to be shady, very shallow

but one time I became a beanstalk

and the cafe waiter became jack

and I hoisted him to the heaven and he found

Ronald Dahl and Kipling there

so what's that saying

Perhaps I'm being petty

just that I see irony when a shelf is out of

reach of many in the house named free word.

I saw a wheelchair brethren crack his neck back

to catch a glimpse of the rack

he wasn't smiling when he left

'That's nothing,' said an Article 19 lady

'I used to work for booksellers who sold

books in bulk by the yard, to rich folk, to smarten their

mansion shelves.'