Vanity Fea

(Viernes 5 de mayo). Atleta S. extrae del diario de Arcadi Espada fragmentos que versifica, o se versifican, libremente, en su blog El poema de 2006. Este es su poema de hoy: "Mr Moussaoui in his last chance":

Mr. Moussaoui in his last chance
to be heard in public delivered
a political speech about his hate
for America concluding God curse
America and save Osama bin Laden
you’ll never get him America
you lost and said he had won
well Mr. Moussaoui if you look
around this courtroom today
every person in this room
when this proceeding is over
will leave this courtroom and they
are free to go anyplace they want
they can go outside they can feel
the sun they smell fresh air
youwill spend the rest of your life
in a super-maximum security facility
in terms of winners and losers
it’s quite clear who won and who lost
Mr. Moussaoui shot back that
was my choice it was hardly
your choice Judge Brinkema retorted
as for you Mr. Moussaoui you came here
to be a martyr and to die
in a great big bang of glory but
to paraphrase the poet T. S. Eliot
instead you will die with a whimper
Mr. Moussaoui tried to interject again
and Judge Brinkema spoke over him
saying you will never again
get a chance to speak and that
is an appropriate and fair ending

(Mmm... ¿Quién es el autor? O, aún peor, ¿quién es el autor implícito? Imposible de determinar. La poesía postmoderna es un ready-made-do-it-yourself).

La poesía es, dijo el utilitarista, aquel tipo de escrito en el que las líneas no llegan
Hasta el extremo derecho de la página, y, en efecto, no llegan...
Podrían llegar, si alguien
Rectificase el poema,
(Tú, mismo, lector,
Quitando espacios),
Haciendo un uso del papel más
Utilitarista,
Pero el estado actual de nuestra economía permite
O aconseja conceder
Un cierto margen al poeta,
Y así pues
Al margen derecho
No
Llegan
Las
L
í
n
e
a
s
.
.
.

Poesía basura