I have uncovered a compendium of verse known as "The Arrogant Prophecies". It seems to have been composed by an unknown poet of the Third Galaxy some thirty or forty years before the ascendency of Ronald Rexona as Supreme Hole of Arraogance. Because of its length, I will publish the verses weekly or bi-weekly, even then it will take the most of a year:
The word of the Spud came to him
in the late afternoon.
He cried: "O, no! -- this will never do!
I cannot sing such a song!
The verses are much too long, and I do suspect
That the message is...not quite...politically correct."
The word, she simply smiled, the way angels often do.
And the wind blew his hat right off his head
as he saw how the visions grew.
With special effects, and deep respect
for the panoramic view,
I hope you will forgive me, friends,
for sharing these visions with you:
The introduction was written long after most of The Arrogant Prophecies. I was bicycling and mulling over in my mind an interview L. Cohen had given on the radio where he remarked that he had been censoring himself needlessly.
As these thoughts tumbled in my mind, the phrase, "The word of the Spud came to him in the late afternoon...", popped unbidden into my mind. I spoke them out loud and, in that very moment, a gust of wind blew my hat right off my head. I retrieved my hat and the rest of the poem unfolded as I rode my bike. I learned the lines by speaking them as I pumped the bicycle pedals. Much of my poetry is composed in this fashion -- I speak or sing the words until I have learned them by heart