The title is almost all you need to know in respect of this light-hearted poem. Written at HMP Highpoint in 2016 in response to a suggestion that we would all be better off if I ceased to exist – or an assortment of crude, rude and lewd words to that effect.
Because of its rhythm and rhyming triplets, it seemed ideal to make into a song which I did a couple of days ago. However, maybe it is better to be read quietly. Some of the ideas within , though not complicated, might be quite interesting to reflect upon.
Epitaph for a Prison Poet
Here lies a man of many words
A master of all things absurd
Lines, now read, that should be heard
Words well-written in reasoned rhyme
Rhythm ruled by rational time
Proceeds of creative crime
Words created for common taste
A will to write with minimal waste
Of time, too short, in human space
The space words use is very small
In truth, words use no space at all
Just points in time in mind’s recall
The universe he viewed so vast
Was light that travelled from the past
Ideas that will forever last
Words on paper, black on white
The space between the photons’ light
Or sounds replacing sense of sight
A power pierced perception’s ear
It broke the chains of irrational fear
And comforted thoughts of things held dear
Words and sounds cannot be dead
Whilst held inside one human head
Born again when they are read
These words he wrote some time ago
The span of days you’ll never know
A space that will forever grow
A life lies low upon this page
Perceptions from another age
Eternal life the writer’s wage