In the Future, the Glorious Future,
All the tools of poetry will be outlawed or destroyed.
Iambic feet will be chained,
Cadences will be sent down
And Hyperbole will be completely and utterly annihilated.
Enjambement will be end-stopped,
End-stopping will be left to hang
And Simile will be sent to the darkest,
Most impenetrable fortress of a jail ever created.
Or something like that.
Pararhyme will be paralysed
Internal Rhyme will be under house arrest,
And simple Rhyme Schemes will be ab ab ab ab olished.
Irony will be completely left alone… or so it will think.
And the Haiku will be kept in a tiny but beautiful cell
Measuring five by seven by five.
Alliteration will face obliteration,
Assonance will be assassinated
And Repetition will be ripped apart.
Allusion will face exclusion,
Metre will be dead meat
And couplets will definitely cop it.
Personification: suffocation.
Connotation: cannotation.
Oh no, Matopoeia!
All the other devices and tricks of this shameful pursuit
Will be rounded up and held in metaphorced labour camps.
Do not misunderstand.
In the Future, the Glorious Future,
There will be complete Freedom of Speech.
You will be free to express any thought, feeling, emotion, idea, opinion, theory, belief, sentiment or viewpoint you wish.
Say what you like.
Say what you like.
No one’s going to remember it.