The Power of 'P'

A non-power point presentation

by Craig Nelson

Prepare to plunge in the deep end

With an a priori proposition that
'P' is the predominant letter.
Perhaps,
You’ve pondered this phenomenon,
Yes? No?
Then permit me to prise open the portal
And expose you to the power of 'P'.

From parables to proverbs,

Platitudes to purple prose,
Every prophet knows
In the pantheon of letters
'P' is paramount.

It is the place, the planet,

The plane of our consciousness,
The perimeter of paradigms.
'P' is the point.

A minuscule of prying
Will propel you to applying
This simple proposition:
From 'P' all things pure flow.

There is no hope or paradise

Without 'P' and
Utopia would merely
Be a dream.

From pleasure and pain,

To pretty and plain,
Pious, profane,
‘P’ encapsulates
The polarities, proclivities,
Simplicities and complexities.

Consider numerology,
Spelt as in 'pneumatic'
(And I'll get back to that),
I can't be more emphatic,
From every perspective
'P' is primary.

In the linear parade

Of our Latin alphabet
(Which, by the way,
was pilfered from the Phonecians)
'P' is number sixteen -
Six plus one equals seven.
In Pythagorean number values
Seven is the path of the philosopher,
The pursuit of perfection
And spirituality.

Note how 'ph' is phonetic with 'f',

Suggesting that all 'f' words
Began with 'ph'
Which was dropped
Due to laziness.

If that isn't enough,

'Gh' sounds like 'f',
Ergo 'gh' equals 'f',
'F' equals 'ph'
Ergo 'gh' equals 'ph'.

Now, consider the silent

Implications of 'P'.
Just because you're psychotic
Doesn't mean patients aren't
Running the psych ward,
Disguised as psychiatrists
And psychologists.

Which posits the proposition

That all words beginning with 's'
Had their genesis in 'p'
Which was dropped
Through laziness,
Like 'p' from 'n' and 'f'',
As mentioned before,
But we'll get back to this.

As poets know
B, c, d, e, g, t and v
All rhyme with 'p',
In a subordinate way
That makes them complicit
In the conspiracy
Of 'P's' predominance
(Note the seven
Subordinate rhymes).

As typographers know,
'B' is just a 'p' upside down
And 'q' is one back-to-front
And 'd' is reversed on its head.

From Playschool to Preschool,

Public to private,
Pupils are projected
Into core ‘P’ subjects.

English, is prose, poetry, plays and expression;

Maths is problem solving;
Science is the physical world;
History is people past and their power plays;
Geography is the planet;

Economics is pulling the purse strings

Of the poor to maintain the predominant plutocracy;
The environment is there to exploit
And pollute for personal profit;
Health is profitable for
Plumbers and physicians;

Politics is for pretenders,

Usurpers, pick-pockets and sycophants
In partnership with police
And their capitalist mates
Who run the State.

As for priests and paedophiles

And un-repentant, pontificating popes,
We'd imprison them in Phnom Phen
In forlorn hope
That they wouldn't persist
In their predatory ploys
With pliable altar boys.
It seems that church and state
Did separate for perverse reasons.
Our cultural life would be primeval
Without writers of prose,
Sculptors, potters, painters, poets
And photographers.

Diet is protein without preservatives.

Cooking is aprons, pots and pans,
Spices, potatoes and peas,
Pasta and pizza
In the plaza of the people.

'P' is a perfect day

For a picnic in the park,
For pastrami, pickles and pork,
Apples and pears,
'P' is everywhere.

The applause of punters

When Pinnochio
Wins the Port Pirie Cup
By a short nose.

In the Seven Pages of Man,

Which was Shakespeare's
Original pretention,
And which we can
Now paraphrase,
Thanks to the power of 'P' as:

From the placenta to puberty,

Is poos and pees
And watching your 'ps' and 'qs',
Until your P-plates
And independence
And propulsion
To apprenticeships and professions,
And ploughing rows
Of wild oats,
Until partnering and parenthood
And responsibility.
From parent to grand parent,
Menopause, prostate
And penile dysfunction
And the pension,
Prior to the perfidy
Of your final plot
Where pansies are planted.

Granted a pardon,
You escape Purgatory
And meet St Peter,
But, beware,
Everywhere you peer
'P' will appear.

And, of course,
Under-pinning it all
Is the puny philosophy
That people are important.
People are preposterous
In their proclivity
For production
And meaningless opulence.

On the pretence of importance

They rape, pillage and rort us,
Says platypus,
Who's family's been around
For 50 million years.
Ponder that, says possum,
The cheeky little prick.

To conclude,
Before the next interlude,
The power of 'p'
Is perfectly proportional
To its silent disguises with 's' and 'n',
Its phonetic predominance
Over 'f' and 'gh',
And its priority rhyme
With b, c, d, e, g, t, v.

Every other letter

Purely exists to allow
For the perfect placement of 'p'.

If you think the diameter,

Or parameter,
Of this proposition,
Is disproportionate
To the circumference
Of your moral compass,
And the lump in your pocket
Does not reflect your personality,
Remember, Pi will measure it, forever.

Ah, the pregnant pause

Before the applause.