Words to Plead

Well blow me down, a gap in proceedings.
A pause in the sentence, as is spoken.
Mentally adjust for, too, in readings.
The line of text completed, unbroken.

This, almost breathing space, called caesura.
Noted in writing by punctuation,
so, when recited, how phrased, be surer.
The right dictation, have confirmation.

Be initial, medial, terminal,
the gentle suspension in the speaking.
Soon after the start, or in the middle,
or near end, the once without repeating.

Caesura, then, enables emphasis.
This is one right now, … too good to be missed.

OCD. Repeat. OCD. Repeat.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, this.
Self standard of perfection, try to meet.
To ‘achieve’ in some form, cannot resist.

And so, a compulsion to which minded.
Maybe several that must attend to.
Their left undoing, awful, decided.
Behind a routine that expect to do.

All sorts of traits may come to recognise.
Insistence upon always hand-washing,
is one known, but be others, realise.
To keep in order, cannot do nothing.

Is limiting, if imaginary.
Over-controlling ‘duty’, OCD.

A noise, I realise, in the background.
A susurration carried in the air.
Chirping birds in trees make the nearest sound.
But that droning is a palimpsest, there.

Still audible, although sight-of erased.
It comes from beyond the green space stretched-out,
and where the secluded houses are placed.
Their cars are garaged, not out and about.

But it is vehicles. It is their engines
that, cumulatively, makes distant groan.
In a clear stretch of road, no doubt, roaring.
Or at multi-route junction, emit tone

that is so lowdown dull, almost forget,
it is quiet that’s the real palimpsest.

Petrichor. The smell released by the earth
following a freshening fall of rain.
In the shower, or whatever, immersed,
the land made ready for growing again.

Dry as dust transformed to moist or muddy,
and aroma of nature emitted.
From plants, from the grass, perhaps even tree,
or the soil itself, the scent exited.

A Greek word in origin, Petrichor,
to do with, could be, a gift from the Gods.
But, maybe, represent as metaphor
downed warriors, their blood mixed with the sod.

But my preference, a fragrant cleansing,
naturally, Petrichor ascending.

The place of certainty, episteme.
The domain of the truth; of true knowledge.
Not just thinking in its proximity.
Or half-truths, where for the facts must forage.

The distortions brought-in, belong elsewhere.
They’re in the realm of possible knowledge,
opinions and beliefs. Take the space there.
May well be expressed for an advantage.

That, all said, is the domain of doxa.
Meant to dispel doubt, and be persuasive.
Propaganda takes off from the blocks there.
Out-of-control attitudes, invasive.

Have views. That’s okay, but should distinguish
episteme and doxa, which is which.

The acronym new, but the tactic old.
Given new lease of life in politics.
In war as well, how the untruth gets sold.
Against crime and rape charge, the defence fits.

Darvo. Has been summarised as Darvo.
Denial. Claim that been wrongly accused.
Way it’s put, showing one’s guilt, just not so.
Attack. The accuser must be confused;

or is deliberately vindictive.
Next three letters together. Reversal
of Victim and Offender. Upended,
conclusion that it’s clear-cut. Meant to fool.

Admit to nothing incriminating.
Gaslight. Double-down; reiterating.

Mansplaining. What are you trying to say?
Whatever it is, here’s the answer now.
I can explain. It’s better done my way.
Word in edgeways, lucky if I’ll allow.

What I have to say, worth listening to.
It’s probably Trumpian. I trump you.
Prepare to stop yourself, I’m coming through.
I’m so intelligent, I thought you knew.

I’m not sorry for the interruptions.
Think they’re relevant, my interventions.
Do not see them as being disruptions.
You finishing statements, are exceptions.

Do not trust your voice. Like the sound of mine.
In discussions, mansplaining all the time.

Descriptive, Private Eye’s sub-editor,
with headline, accurate in what entail.
There would not be many, though, cleverer,
as was succinct as well, ‘Doolally Mail’.

It is crazy with its front-page stories,
and articles, distortions off the scale.
Editorials, off with the fairies.
When it comes to truth, it’s ‘Denial Mail’.

Its bias and prejudice abhorrent.
Attitudes disclosed, more rancid than stale.
Racist, right-wing, Tory filth; a torrent.
For any good news that does, it’s ‘Dire Mail’.

Daily to worst of causes, it rally.
It’s generous to call it ‘doolally’.

Her fingernails, to my sight, were revealed.
Mixture of matt and gloss in appearance,
so colour as a smooth paint, her nails sealed.
Application perfect in adherence.

Blue prominent, but I thought slightly not.
Altered, so surely need for a new name.
Told me from a Netflix film it was got.
Set in East Germany, she did explain,

during the cold war. Shown there, the shade new.
Later, such flatter bloom, the West would steal.
It was christened by her, ‘GDR blue’,
or, more real, alternative, ‘Berlin teal’.

But, before the name she decides upon,
I add my suggestion, ‘Stasi cyan’.

Suburgatory. New word for life lived,
laid-back, boring and dull, in the suburbs.
Suburb and purgatory edited.
Urban excitement, by contrast, inferred.

Of course, a lot of scandals in secret.
All, whilst presenting as respectable.
Skulduggery, fraud, cheating and deceit
under guise, appearing acceptable.

Seem to be much of little consequence,
with whatever strictly behind closed doors.
Smart façade, though, in shows of opulence.
House, cars, clothes, beauty, all there to assure.

Even children taught the conformity,
be not caught out, in suburgatory.

If ‘A OK’, could say ‘copacetic’.
For ‘pretty darn good’, too, there is this word.
‘Appreciation’; when said, sure meant it,
as for ‘wonderful’, this perhaps preferred.

‘Fine’, then, copacetic referring to.
‘Satisfactory’, or even more so,
when an apt description of such is due.
The word can be used if it is one know.

Copacetic’s in the English language,
but Americans tend to speak it more.
‘Agreeable’, and to their advantage
to say when mean ‘in excellent order’.

Origin, French Creole. Here poetic.
And this poem is just copacetic.