A Pretension of Poets, 'Pomposity of Poets', 'Snobbery of Poets', 'A Conceit of Poets'.
And look, look, there they are, the Charade of Poets, in our all knowing airs, grace and favors, dispensing Justice from on high, our rare spun thoughts, control of mind, our fabulous flowing feints and weaves, our immensely sharp eyes and perfectly tuned ears ...
... hearing every air-cut sound, half, a quarter, eighth, sixteenth of a foot; one imperceptibly weighted thud put in place the lid on the box of a poem clicking shut ...
... objects that self-sustaining create for its own meaning and merit, impact, fallout, and socio-cultural relevance. Each and every voice unique and individual in the community of prospects and contenders for the highest role of mother, Muse, memory and mouth-music's loving literary breath.
In eloquent and spontaneous recondite lines stretched upon the page of reality and there laid out for whatever welcoming warm within we've always wanted to stage and now found with our magical matter inside, speaking silently their voices' aural phantasmagoria ...
... makey uppy owt'll do, lingo this 'n' pirate tha' hooayiz howaye ya'll bae yous yiz ye and yoll, di 'Parade of Poets', tha dirren even kno' ih. Imbas forosnai...
... Good luck.
Goddess bless these poets then, they'll never stack a haggard with their breath, but sing s/he will the mind that has no gender and is without sex; only the ghostly phantom ancestors' pyramid of flesh life lit; that lived, loved and now are dead to all but you that dwell atop their living spirit cherishing all their silent voices and your ancestral breath drawn without by s/he the otherworldly will alone upon Her throne listening in the quiet of the moonbeams, to that voice from the world of women.
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