Wednesday, 23 February 2011

You Can't Spell 'Audience' Without 'U'

A Lipogram

Of all the gigs I play every year,
The one I like best is now and right here.
It's not for the poems, or all of the comedy,
It's not what I said: it's the people in front of me.
If they hadn't come for my poems and jokes,
I'd be like Robin Hood with no Merry Blokes:
No-one beside him to help him to loose
The arrows he's made from ash and from goose.
A preacher exhorting to no congregation
Is wasting his passion for no consolation.
There's no real joy in scoring at Wembley
If there's no fans, friends, crowd, or assembly,
The wittiest line, if there's no-one to hear,
Is a solo party, devoid of all beer,
Like talking to someone telepathic,
So all that's said is one-way traffic,
A dialog box (with American spelling)
Where all conversation's hardly compelling:
        A window has crashed again: Click OK
        A window has crashed again: Click OK
        A window has crashed again: GO AWAY.

So thanks for coming, thanks for listening,
Thanks for leaving my ego glistening.
Words make my arrows, the best I can do,
Yet the deadliest longbows are all made of yew.

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