You always find me when I least expect you (2)

You always find me when I least expect you,
When I’m lost or lonely I’ll turn to find you there
You always find me when I least expect you,
When reading, walking, even combing my hair.

So frequently I’ve no clue where to go,
How to develop, the way to carry on, 
Until you appear unexpectedly and so
I become most able indeed to tarry on.

Or when I have no ideas, no way to start
Treading mental water, or just pacing,
You hit the bullseye with a single dart
And your ideas I’m soon to be tracing.

Though it’s never when I’m working at my desk,
And never when I’ve a notepad in hand,
My dear, my love I must confess,
You’re always welcome whene’er you land.

I don’t know if you are just in my head
(If not I should be co-authoring you)
Without you my career’d surely be dead
Thank God
You always find me when I least expect you.

You always find me when I least expect you

It happened to Dewey while riding a horse,
It often happens on journeys of course of course.
To Heisenberg at midnight in the park,
He found light where it was quite quite dark.

To Kekule it came to him in a dream,
That showed him the make-up of Benzene.
While Einstein, bored in the patent offices,
Plucked relativity from inside his cortices.

Philo Farnsworth saw in plough-made incisions
A way to transmit pictures for electronic vision.
And Darwin, from reading Malthus on population,
Found his way, following years of notation.

Loaded with information as clouds with rain,
Made discoveries formulate in their brains.
But only when at rest, only when unforced,
Were these thoughts from soup divorced.

---

Note: Written following a lecture on Information and Creativity (where I got most of these examples - the rest came from this article) and with this song mind a bit too.

Tweet Repeat 81

His constant attempts to schmooze made me want to wooze; he could never amuse even a room full of fools.

Now that I’m sere

Now that I’m sere,

Now that I’m here, Dried up, old, Sheltered from the cold In my favourite armchair Under blanket of rough hair. Now I can see it all, I can see a fool In the mirror Who makes me shiver As I look back and remember That fateful December When I let everything go, I just didn’t know That’d be it, Last chance lost in a fit Of decisions too rash, That changed my life in a flash. So Now that I’m here, Now that I’m sere, I can reflect, Continue to regret One mistaken decision That was to be to my life A fatal incision.

Entropy

Oh! to be a part of entropy,
Just a small bit of energy-
In a state where I never can die!

To be passed straight on
From one state to a new-
Always the ability to view!

To have always been,
And to always be-
To have seen all of history!


Oh! to live in this way,
To exist every day,
No longer a simple deduction.

Oh, to understand all,
Not to live behind walls
Like in this simple construction.


And yet and yet,
To the future I’ll beget
A gift to never forget.

After my mourning day,
Whether I am burned or decay,
My energy will never go away!

My parts always have been,
My parts always will be
Only solidified for the time being.

Tweet Repeat 80

The bombs interspersed the troops,
Threw them, made them loop-de-loop.
Scattered to the four winds,
Shattered like pounded flint.

Some got up in dribs'n'drabs,
Numbers cut like pounds of flab.
A patchwork with pieces missing,
No longer so neatly fitting.

Some troops moved forward and waited,
For the next rain so heavily weighted.
Ever on moved this incessant gamble,
That made some run, some only amble.

Tweet Repeat 79

Though those two always sought to connive, I always thought this helped to revive our then-failing business.

Back room talk and back room deals helped us keep on track and steal death from Evil Dennis.

Enskied

Enskied, I live my life enshrined-
It was the way I’d sought to find,
A childhood dream of living on high
Within a palace that filled the sky.
I got so very close when I tried,
Until my kingdom crumbled and died.

It seems no one likes enslavement,
To which my prize is now testament:
Since they converted me to sow
And scattered into a permanent rainbow.

(Still) No Ratiocination

In Fallen leaves, I am simply not capable of ratiocination, or Autumn trees.
With Hands muffling, No matter how much I employ determination or Feet shuffling
Or Hearts racing, I can never maintain a train of thought with Eyes facing
For Warming days: However hard the battle is fought for Changing ways.
Never faking, Always flitting from one thing to the next, Always shaking,
I Fear rules: From films to pictures to music to text, I’m Never nude,
A Born Worrier, I cannot stay focused, A Brow furrower,
I Show concern as My mind’s too footloose, I Never learn.

The Dark Warrior will rise but thrice,
The Dark Warrior will takeover twice.
The Dark Warrior will attack from every angle,
The Dark Warrior will rise through dark triangles.

From chocolate hits, to cream that is whipped,
I’m Scatological to the extreme,
Cake and all things sweet:
Cola, caramel and sugar beet
Means Thinking about it is a constant stream.
Veg and meats for Sunday roast,
Hot, buttered and jammy toast:
I’m worrying always about its state,
About the toilet bowl’s sorry fate.
Muffins, crumpets, scones and cheese:
What actions will bring which reactions,
Crisps, crackers, sausage please!
While eating, it’s a constant distraction:
Thoughts of food I do desire,
Set my stomach’s lust on fire.
Yet Thoughts of what will follow haunt me,
Focusing my mind, they often daunt me.

The Dark Warrior will not exist,
The Dark Warrior will of mist consist.
The Dark Warrior may still power retain,
The Dark Warrior’s future is uncertain.

You see
My Mind snaps, (Bodies writhing),
Eternally.
My Mind cracks, (Sweat sliding),
Infernally.
Synapse strain: (Interlocking)
Head in pain,
This compulsion: (Freely fucking)
My propulsion.

---

Originally written for this blog, re-written for entry in The Bridport Prize, 2013.

Hapless?

Some say I have no luck But all they really do is cluck How can one have any hap When mostly all they do is nap I’m hapless to the nth degree Cause I think most when I pee I’m not one for self-aggrandisement I’ve no need for advertisement I cannot even say that I’ve sought Out a single future related thought And I cannot muster points to action To relieve these self-made sanctions So those who think I’m unlucky Should instead think I am sucky For allowing my life to pass by Without even attempting to try

The Waitron Argument

They call me a waitron,

A serving automaton,

For my “level fixed voice”

When taking a customer’s choice.

They say I act as a slave,

Another regular wave;

That I inspired the word robot ,

That my service ain’t got a lot.

I say I carry out my training

With a plomb.

I say I serve with many a

Linguistic bomb.

I believe I employ many tones

According to each new phone,

So each person I encounter

Is treated with especial wonder.

This I will always maintain

While thinking my refrain:

For our own inner universe

Is seen by others in reverse.

Tweet Repeat 78

Koshed by a food cloche I laid half stunned, 
knowing only I'd not won that fight, try as I might. 

But an angry chef packs quite a heft,
and within reach he's more than enough to defeat 
all comers, especially such misnomers.

or extended: 

Koshed by a food cloche I laid half stunned 
knowing only I'd not won that fight, try as I might.
  
But an angry chef packs quite a heft, 
and within reach he's more than enough to defeat 
all comers, especially such misnomers

as us lowly waiters, only fit to carry plates, take orders 
from all front and back Lorders, never to talk back,
that's how I ended up taking this flack 
from the cook with the Devil's look, 
the Devil's rage, maybe Devil's sage...


All I know is I came a clobber 
when accused of being a robber 
on that dark and stormy night 
when my boss showed his might. 

Tweet Repeat 77

He sought to banish all those who famish, 
those who burn to make their victims squirm, 
who pull nails to make them tell tales, 
who startle, half drown, shock and pound. 

He sought to do this but met only their fists.

Tweet Repeat 76

Lambaste!
Create a sickening paste.
Bombast! 
Batter his mongrel face!

Teach him not to squeal what he can't repeal,
Then send him out as waste.

Tweet Repeat 75

Corridors, cloisters and classrooms became my lot,
Those and the broom were what I got
In the draw that decided things,
Like for whom we would be an underling.

Tweet Repeat 74

Beyond the watershed our people fled, over the streams they teemed. 

Until in safety they found land across the North Sea's hand.

Tweet Repeat 73

Our whole world turned rotten until it became, 
as we knew it, kaput, broken down and changed 
into something underneath a metal foot;
forever carrying their weight on our hips, 
living in a post-freedom apocalypse.

Tweet Repeat 72

Oh my god, they had the power to gorgonize, 
throughout school the corridors were lined with boys
frozen solid and staring, fossilized - 
many were soon found to be malleable and became their toys.

Tweet Repeat 71

So many thought that Hilfenschwein were sequacious to wizards: 
Lokmani showed that knowledge was kept precious in their gizzards,
Locked away safe from harm until the time came to use safely as arms.

Tweet Repeat 70

A phantasm once gave me an orgasm which was impressive as by its definition it's in my imagination.

Tweet Repeat 69

It might be mawkish but my greatest wish is to return to the days I yearned for nothing more than towers of smores.

Fard

He was coloured, as in fard,

Strutting about reciting the bard,

Showing off his super memory

Of all o’the Kings named Henry.

Smugly he did pronounce the words,

Slowly building up his herd,

Of lines lodged forever in his head:

That will stay until he’s long past dead.

And right now he’s only fourteen,

As precocious as was James Dean.

Though I hope he’s not heading for a crash

Though sometimes I want his brains to dash.

Because he is good at what he does,

Such enthusiasm is rare among us,

So it would be somewhat tragic,

If he didn’t continue his “magic.”

Tweet Repeat 68

"far from enigmatic"
i have been dubbed
"less than dynamic"
i wore it on my badge

slow to move and slow to think
slow to do and slow to blink
i like to mull things long time
i like to form imaginary lines

if in person this can make me dull
if it makes people push not pull

then whatever

i'll seek to one day bring flavour
with words for people to savour

Tweet Repeat 67

I hewed him down, I hewed him good, I hewed him into shape.
I hewed him so that not e’en his mother would recognise his face.

I hewed his heart, I hewed his soul, I hewed his thickened rind.
I hewed him until he understood he would have to hew the line.

I hewed for love, I hewed with love, I hewed apart my love.
And once myself I have hewed enough, I will join him up above.

Intemperate Climate, Versions 1 and 2

I fear his intemperate climate as one fears a wild, escaped primate:
Frequent bursts of anger at his worst, never slaking his thirst
For violence of the highest order, that strays ever cross the border
Between right and wrong, something in which he claims he to be strong,
Even while pummeling my skin, even while kicking my shin.
This man goes beyond the pail, he is the definition of ultimate fail-
Which may sound like I’m taking this lightly, maybe even I’m faking,
But to come out with this believe me is brave, I am and always will be his slave.
Escape is an ongoing project, to get away and perhaps to forget,
If I can, these days of torment, or to put them aside after a period of lament.
But I have only the strength for to dream, I long ago ran out of steam,
The sort that brings action, rather than a nasty reaction,
And sit here instead thinking it all through, delaying rather than straying.
Because I’m scared and scarred, because all of this has gone too far,
As it can be when, for a job, you decide to join the mob.


*

I fear his intemperate climate as one fears a wild, escaped primate:
Frequent bursts of anger at his worst, never slaking his thirst
For violence of the highest order, that strays ever cross the border
Between right and wrong, something in which he claims he to be strong,
Even while pummeling my skin, even while kicking my shin.
This man goes beyond the pail, he is the definition of ultimate fail-
Which may sound like I’m taking this lightly, maybe even I’m faking,
But to come out with this believe me is brave, I am and always will be his slave.
Escape is an ongoing project, to get away and perhaps to forget,
If I can, these days of torment, or to put them aside after a period of lament.
But I have only the strength for to dream, I long ago ran out of steam,
The sort that brings action, rather than a nasty reaction,
And sit here instead thinking it all through, delaying rather than straying.
Because I’m scared and scarred, because all of this has gone too far,
Because I love, because I am a peaceful dove.

Tweet Repeat 66

It's all so horrifically kitsch,
I wish that I could switch
Every single item in that room,
Giving each a suitable doom

In the world beyond for furnishings.
For all items in there bugs:
The bed, the vase, the couch, the rug;
Even the bloody curtain rings.

Fauns (Don't they know?)

Always they fawn to him:
Don’t they know
They’re just pawns to him?

They bow and kowtow:
Don’t they realise
He marks them lowbrow?

They lap up his words:
Don’t they know
They’re all tapeworms?

They seek power and mirth:
Don’t they realise
He’s taking them to the Underearth?

Of course not ,
They are fawntastic fools,
Who do not know that
They’re their master’s tools.

And yet..

With this dissenting voice:
Don’t I know
I gave him no choice?

That with it I sealed my fate:
Don’t I realise 
My head’s on a plate?

Sandbagged at dawn

Sandbagged at dawn
With bullets torn
Our blood filling the trench

Lying down on duckboards
In a reddened ford
Each mind filled with his wench

Whether young woman, man
Favourite servant or whore
Each man remembers
And reaches to his amore

And clutching nothing
But feeling something
Each man expiring fast
 
All fought for something
All have got nothing
Each man breathes his last

To be replaced with a medal
A penny, a scroll
Survived by memories
In lives left with a hole

For that there is war
Repeating what’s been before
Among what are called victories

Nations built up with tors
The dead’s bones lining the floors
Bodies forming the worm’s vittlery

As it always shall be
Whether deemed legal or not
For one side or for all
This is our history and future lot

Short Thought

I spend too much time in lifts
And not enough on stairs.

I need to give my feet more shifts
And fill my lungs with air.

Tweet Repeat 65

The magnitude of his moral rectitude could be seen in his rod straight back and kindly, even, grin.

Everything about him screamed, "He's a rock."  And that was why it was such a shock.

Tweet Repeat 64

He said it was peculiar,/
I said it was lenticular,
Not so strange at all:
Merely like a lentil.

“That doesn’t rhyme,” he chided me.
It would have been rude to disagree
And wrong – you can’t win them all,
Even with something so shortImean small!

But “What,” you may ask, “was this about?
What was the shaped item at the start?”
That is not for me to divulge or flout.
Nor to say this was never thought out,

Not at this end or any point from the start.
See?

Canker Crabs

My body made lumpy by a hundred cankers

Resembling an infestation of pussy crabs,

Their veiny arms keep them well anchored

As they grow like infected scabs

Each one sits and stares, almost daring me

To scratch and squeeze them-

And though my fingers twitch and desire achingly

I’m good and I stand most firm.

In this battle of wills I won’t fall,

This siege will end when they starve.

So long as I can stay standing tall

I will make a successful charge

From deep within to push them out

And away from my body forever,

Leaving me free and to run and shout

Once more, happily, with our Trevor.

Tweet Repeat 63

A dearth of sweets led the office to ruin,
hitting low after low while
there was no sugar for chewin'

........

When they could no longer coast by
upon sugar highs,
they found themselves down the pan going.

Reflections on a bad decision

Slowly over time that beast had me cankered

Until the point I became completely conquered:

Doomed and totally beyond hope;

Man I felt such a dope

To be taken in by what I knew was evil,

By a slowly burrowing and poisoning weevil

That took its time but wore me down,

To create a brand new follower clown.

And oh! the tumbling acts I performed:

Throwing people from the cliffs, forlorn,

Squeezing information from their lips

By applying hot pokers to their hips;

Even deconstructing human bodies

To hide our acts from searching ploddies.

I did it all and all for shame,

Til our leader to here came

And we were quickerly up-rounded,

To follow him and be impounded,

To sit, waiting for death, and to think

About getting ourselves into this here stink:

From the day I let my conscience slide,

And went off to sail upon a bloody tide.

Tweet Repeat 62

You don't know what an interrobang is‽ The greatest invention of the sixties‽...

...If only more would type or inscribe it, so a keyboard might imbibe it....

To keep it and to carry on, we must fight and tarry on!

A Ceorl

A ceorl,

Whose job was to unfurl

The red carpet for the king,

Once did a very unusual thing.

In a fanciful flight,

He plunged himself to plight,

And exchanged the regal carpet, well strung

For one made entirely of dried dung.

The crowd gasped

As the king set foot, expecting a rasp,

As he realised he was stepping on poo,

But he paused and calmly asked for our fool.

He stepped on forward,

His head bent at the king, toward,

Ready for a slap or his sword,

Buried deep through his gourd.

Instead his liege,

Anointed on him prestige,

Elevated him to the royal entourage,

Something some strangely named espionage.

You see, this ceorl was a lucky bugger,

For this he could have seen a dagger

Come and extricate him like a tumour:

Fortunately the king had a sick sense of humour.

Tweet Repeat 61

Forsooth, I lost my golden tooth,
in a bet with a creepy demon vet
who looks after spooks with laughter most foul,
and who howl out their guts
like their stuck in an eternal rut.

Something I doubted,
and thus was easily routed.

The Human Rights Law Shorts

The Human Rights Law Shorts 
Worn by the prosecution 
Every time abuses are fought 
Within the human rights law court.

The Nepenthe Wards

The Nepenthe Wards will stay with me,
Until I’m dead and grown into a tree-
Or until I succumb to that dreaded gloom
And become a patient in those rooms.

A war of attrition
Between the government and their nutrition,
That took the ants
And turned them into a rash in the pants.

For sometimes when the powerless act,
They are able to build themselves a rack,
On which to place their oppressors,
And act themselves as chief assessors.

But when the means to the end is a drug
That wipes the mind as if permanently drunk,
Then I wonder if this strategy is grand
Or just the start of the destruction of this land.

Desperation draws out the last hope,
The one you pray with which they won’t cope.
The one that trusts the future, the action of others
Perhaps a little too much,asking only for bother.

And so we wait, ever more of us in stasis,
For the start of the final chases
That take us from this world to the next,
Whether it be societal change
or a bullet to the chest.

Tweet Repeat 60

With orphic skills so entrancing you won't be able to stop dancing;
and he laughs and he laughs as your feet start to bleed,
and he laughs and he laughs as his minions do feed.

Olim Meminisse Juvabit

Seven years of sniping,

Seven years of swiping,

Seven years of not treating others

As I would do myself.

Seven years of awkward stares,

Seven years of terrible hair.

Seven years preparing

For life upon a shelf.

Seven years of crying over nothin’,

Seven years of lying over luncheon,

Seven years following

Along like a lamb.

Seven years thinking like a fool,

Seven years of being a tool,

Seven years learning

Only to take exams.

Seven years and all the while

Our blazer badge said we

Would look back and smile.

When thoughts dog you

When thoughts dog you,
Won't let you be; 
When thoughts dog you,
Won't leave you alone.

Take a little advice from me:
Throw yourself a frickin' bone
And let it get you down,
Don't wear a confused frown.

But take that crown
From your head
And replace it
With a cap instead.

Use mental effort
To forget it
Replace the weight
With a fluffy bait

And escape freely away
To refresh and recuperate
To return another day
To those thoughts incarnate.

Literature saving the past from destruction by Time

Turn back sir,

This is not the place

To cause a stir.

Leave now, Father,

Do not wreak what you

Would later have not rather.

Go now, Time,

Return when you seek

To read my lines,

And not wreak

Their destruction complete.

---

Inspired by this print.