This poem is dedicated to someone I used to consider a friend but who nuked that from orbit and demanded an apology from me for their hurt feelings over something I did not do.
A strange and powerful lethargy
Astonishing in it’s motionless
My hand stills ascribing without glee
My pen not racing to express
Ideas of showing how I see
Deep into your soul (what a mess)
I am fitting to your reality
Mind steeped in syrup thickness
You exposed yourself to me
Thank you for at last being honest.
I found this bit of prose written on the back of a tram conductor’s pay-in slip. I therefore know it was written in the winter of 1996, I guess I probably wrote this when I was bored in a tram, as tended to happen a LOT. I have no memory of it, or of why I wrote it, other than I expect there was some sort of discussion about vegetarianism at the time, and I have a friend called Zik – knowing me it was in response to a certain incident and I was mocking him somehow. I would have been a vegetarian when I wrote it.
A man called Zik, walking down the lane
Held lentils in his hand
He stopped and exclaimed out loud
“Oh, wouldn’t it be grand! –
If these lentils were just like magic beans
And if I threw them over there
They grew and grew and grew and grew
And formed a magic stair!”
Continue reading “Pulse Magic – prose, written 22 years ago” →
(A tribute to someone who I no longer have to give a shit about)
The Good Plates
You own a “good” dinner set that you can’t allow yourself to use
You excuse and are obtuse as to why not, you are excessive
In the face of opposition.
Your position is that your mission is to keep it nice,
unbroken, unsullied, unused and so another set is purchased;
The second best set.
And these ones you allow to get wet, but you still expect reverence.
They’re delicate but not untouchable and still quite valuable
You calculate, and hesitate to even place these before
those undeserving and unnerving, who you don’t let yourself respect
Mostly they get to eat off the the third-best set.
Hey what do you know, I also illustrate!
Under the bed, between the walls
These little creatures are
They use your toys, they use your balls
They do not take them far
Continue reading “The tooth – illustrated prose for children” →
I decided it was time to write some bad poetry. I’m trying to rival the Vogans.
It turns out that bad poetry is just painful in how bad it is to write. Still willing to read it? Don’t say i didn’t warn you!
Ode to Spring
Oh! Budding buds!
And Greening Browns
Leaping hop bugs
Upon the downs Continue reading “Truly dreadful Poetry – Poetry. Sort of. No. Not really.” →
Ahhh. Brenden the Broflake who I didn’t even argue with on the internet. I just didn’t. He came in swinging, howling, being hurt. My not arguing was thus invalidating him in whatever position it was he was upholding (no one from that conversation actually knows). I didn’t argue. I was obtuse. I didn’t respond to him at all. I did wow dog meme his nonsense.
Here are his very own words about me – as I cast them back to him in prose. I hope you appreciate it more than he did. There was a deeply lyrical quality to his insults and the things he made up. I am just sad he deleted his really good stuff before I got it copied…. Very prose. Such Sook. Wow.
Also, he kept threatening to flounce off, and yet did not. I was much dissapoint.
Continue reading “An ode to Brenden – Prose” →
Jessie’s girl is a horrible song. Imagine you are actually the woman dating Jessie and his best mate is constantly creeping on you.
Jessie’s my boy fried,
And, I know he’s really sweet sometimes
But lately something’s changed
It ain’t hard to define
Jessie’s got this mate and he watches me all the time
And he cracks it when I look at Jesse
And sulks when we fuck and lets me know it! Continue reading “Jessie’s Girl – I fixed the song lyrics so it’s far less creepy” →
I have created some statements in English, put them through a translator to Klingon, then back to English. It makes a type of poetry. I’m pretty pleased with this.
There is always a small cat.
It is, and they call the blind man, ran, and be happy.
But then the wolves.
Continue reading “Klingon Poetry – Poetry” →
Prose written when I was having a cranky moment about a truly awful person.Why does the best prose happen when I’m cross?
I’ve never seen such skin before
The word to describe it is crenelation
In cases like your people say ‘nice personality’
Sadly for you this just isn’t the case Continue reading “Crenelation – prose” →
Have you never really noticed
That your new boyfriend is gay?
We are all a bit embarrassed
And someone had to say Continue reading “Your boyfriend is gay, sweetie! – prose” →