A certain piece of equipment in my possession has been causing me a bit of grief in this lovely British time of rain and wind (i.e. the majority of the time), so I thought I’d compose a poem that’s essentially a heavily abridged version of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Nevermind’. As you do. It’s a song I became obsessed with after hearing it during the opening titles of True Detective S2 (no, it’s not a great season, but it’s also not as bad as people say it is). Anyway, imma ’bout to chuck some substandard beats your way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
The ribs were lost
The canopy declined
It was not fraught
It still aligns
It was not fraught
It still survives
Even if it doesn’t really thrive<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had to leave the cover behind
It flew to where
You’ll never find, ’cause I
Lost it in the deep divine
It was decent but not sublime<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not sublime
Not sublime
The ribs were lost
The canopy declined
There’s a working handle
And a switch device
Neither are great, so
Not sublime<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Your decline was so concrete
It really was
Quite disappointing to stare at
Your broken wires, full incomplete<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The small end top
Our rainfall flayed
The bones it got
Chilled through the stage
Our broken trees
With contraband
A \u00a33 umbrella
Hardly stands<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And through these leaves
The discarded parts of paltry vines
Some call fame
The lowest of the vines
Some call Jeremy
But we had names more offensive<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Names so barbed
And names so true
They’re mud to me
And frost to you
There is no creed
And this true divine
There’s a working handle
And a switch device
Neither are great, so
Not sublime<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I could not break
The way you break
I could not grate
I vibed and trailed
You turned around
At least you’re whole
But broken full with
Ferrule flies<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This was a part
This bunch of spires
This cold metallic
This frame of mire
You don’t look well, I’m not surprised
A \u00a33 umbrella
Unholy bind<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not sublime
Not sublime
I had to leave the cover behind
It flew to where
You’ll never find, ’cause I
Lost it in the deep divine
It was decent but not sublime<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not sublime
Not sublime
You have no knife
Nor spoons behind
You play it dull
No tools no pride
Through no clear spine
You can’t survive<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My raincoat’s here
My cold hands too
My kitten gloves far from tools like you
In cases deep
With hats entwined
You have no knife
Nor spoons behind<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The ribs were lost
The canopy declined
It was not fraught
It still aligns
It was not fraught
It still survives
Even if it doesn’t really thrive<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2602\ufe0e<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A certain piece of equipment in my possession has been causing me a bit of grief in this lovely British time of rain and wind (i.e. the majority of the time), so I thought I’d compose a poem that’s essentially a heavily abridged version of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Nevermind’. As you do. It’s a song I … <\/p>\n