I play with past participles <br />Like a child does with plasticine <br />Shyly situated at her deserted desk <br />Desultory with the spectrum <br />Making a masterpiece <br />A complete and utter mess <br /> <br />Of incompatibility <br />No army of Dysons could attack. <br />Slack, coy, abstract, <br />And I can mould that. <br />Until you spew out your poor education and Adidas syntax on my lap. <br /> <br />Dustpan and Brush <br />(both bastards) <br />Sweeping my talent from the tabletop, <br />Because it doesn’t resemble a Tweenie, a plane or my Mother. <br /> <br />Integrating into it’s multiplicity of condescending spears <br />My ‘piece of shit’ in your deprived linguistics <br />My so-described expletive that took me years. <br /> <br />My tongue-between-milk-teeth endeavour, <br />My Picasso Playdo. <br />My Mona Lisa mashed potato. <br /> <br />Roll my magnum opus into a colourful, wasteful snowball, <br />Pick up a crumb, some carrot, thumbprints and half a biscuit, <br />Then auction it off to the bin men. <br /> <br />Tell Thomas to show you his tank engine, <br />Tell Rosie to show you her boat. <br />This is what true sculptors sculpt. <br />We like to salivate over their scholastic-fantastic result, <br />And our league table growth.<br /><br />Alice Gormley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mona-lisa-mashed-potato/
