Hello, I’m a – fill in what you wish -

I’m here today to tell you about: Myself.

How I came to be

How I claim to be

Top of my game: the tree

The cue, the clue - it’s up to you

To be, and be like me

I – how I love that word – I have assembled

About me – that word too – agglomerations

(The word is ‘Network’)

Of wily willing bodies; lobbies who expostulate

Who advocate on my part my art’s speciality

The aim is to create my own validity

So that:

My name is known and owned by multiverses

My satisfaction aggregates in platitudes

My self-expression gathers ample till-reciepts

My autophile identity rakes free unbounded

I pose, expose myself, in public windows

My individuality suffuses inwards.

Out there, I probe the spectrum of identity

To all, who as like me, with Sellotape

Make dreams in castle heads, filled, dirigible

The room is crammed and cramped to overflowing

Of persons entering, auditioning,

The crowds flow out of doors around the heaving building

Perhaps a miracle’s expected?

People arrange themselves to get a token

And buy their tickets to the lightshow sitdown

Six numbers drawn; and silver doors to roses open

It could be you; an allotted pot at 20!

You could be me; so text the digit code right now

The barn Doors of Perception flung apart, are broken

Access soiled reductions at The Bethlehem Arcade

Come hard upon a Saturnalia Midwinter season

Outlier worms in sleeping bags, await a consolation

A million million lines of Coke marked down to -zip!

The stores expect and overstate the coming custom

Some men; some women; still in their pyjamas

Especially vociferous, perform their public mores,

Confess their animation, excitation, swank with worries

They call it fate awaits me.

Uprise a flight of acolytes, borne individually,

Whose palates picture pictures in congenial ways

A host, a crowd, of golden dollar bills

Bringing to me a prize Gargantuan cellophane delight

Stood by my side, a coterie allied, selected,

Seductively, by a cordial dram inebriety

Of sweet, sweet life

One possessing all the flavour; nil consistency

And here we are, and our avatar; celebrity

Sat and waiting on the winter fatal draw;

Your number’s up

Translates from beds of roses; into daisies evermore

Sales at the arts department Bacchanale receding

And stragglers leave the floor