Dada Is My Name

Bath is my name Bath is my name, you’ll want to get in me, embracing my curves to soak in me. I can change from bubbly and hot to tepid and cold, while you lie down to become me. I’ve been cleaning bodies for years, holding great oafs and lithe queens, naked and vulnerable but relaxed. I’m a great English town, I get emptied and filled, I’m used all the time but that suits me. I can get quite dirty but mostly I’m clean, come take your clothes off and slide in me Photo by Curology on Unsplash

Pen is my name Pen is my name, and I love lots of apples, pineapples are also quite good. I get picked up and used to stroke fine lined paper, to mark and record the whatever. “Get your pen out!” is not something I often hear, but I am sometimes pronounced with an is. I’m used everywhere, multiple colours, creating a scene or a story. I can be bought for a trifle, mostly given jobs mundane, routine, I am usually covered in plastic, my blood ink. Once I dry up, I am quickly thrown and replaced, like many of my friends who live in the suburb of Stationery. I’m planning the future, though known for my past, Pen is my name, come down and hold me Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Enough is my name Enough is my name, I don’t have my name, continually searching for… whatever it is, I want much much more, but Enough they all say, and I say, “yes, what is it?” “You will know”, they all say, “when you reach it”. Reach what? I don’t know, but something is there, and then someone says, “that’s good enough”. Why, thank you for calling me good, I then say, but then someone says, “there is never enough”. “Never?”, I then say, “but I am right here!” They then roll their eyes and walk through me. I will now say my name in vain: Enough of the lies! Enough of the bullshit! Enough is my name, you won’t find me Photo by Mark König on Unsplash

Paint is my name Paint is my name, I am many colours, applied to your face or your palette. I can then be taken by a brush and pressed into a canvas or wall, and make pretty things or maybe not so… I’m practical, artistic, I can spread very well, I can make you amazed or excited! Many people have used me, Picasso, Monet, and Van Gough, are some of the names that now come to my head, legends who used me very well! What they have done with me sells very well,   millions and more for some of me. People frame me, hang me up, stick me to walls, just so they can see me more clearly. I am everywhere, revered by the world, Paint is my name, at your service! Photo by Taelynn Christopher on Unsplash

What is my name   What is my name, no, What is my MY NAME, yes, my name shares a space with a question. My name is What, I know. My name is What , what’s the big deal? I am hazy, a question that everyone asks, inexhaustible fuel for existence. curious or complex, simple or snarky, disinterested, indifferent, or an interrogation. I am many moods, situations. “What is your name?” I reply, “Yes, What is my name!” And they usually reply, “I don’t know, you haven’t told me.” “But WHAT IS MY NAME!” And so on and so forth until they walk away, annoyed, confused, or bemused. So, I’m not just a question, I’m also a noun, What is my name no need to answer! Photo by Rhys Kentish on Unsplash

Ant is my name Ant is my name, I’m small, even tiny , covering the ground with my great family. Barometer of rain, fortune tellers without fortune, we have our hills and our holes, where you may find me. Attracted to sugar, little pieces, small crumbs, I’ll eat a whole meal with my millions. In cartoons I visit grand picnics and carry away whole drumsticks and cakes back to my room with the help of my brethren, all moving as one like an Eastern Religion. I may crawl over your body, bite you when stirred, but that is no fun when any second you could stamp down and put me forever asleep. See me everywhere, if you bother to look, Ant is my name, I’m not frightened! Photo by Gabriel Manlake on Unsplash

Life is my name Life is my name, oh damn I need meaning, or is a heartbeat plus breathing enough? So much is made of me, I feel like God, everything, eternal, but dying, all time. My twin brother’s death, a legend of sorts, much feared, misunderstood, and avoided. But I am nothing without him, and he is nothing without me, we both encourage and play with each other. There is nothing moving or conscious without me, although that is also my downfall, long me or short me, it’s all the same, we are all one, like a cliché. Energies and spirits, bodies and thoughts, sex and cities, are all me. I’m vigorous and dull, exciting and bored, Life is my name, come and live me! Photo by  Kristopher Roller  on  Unsplash