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.

The Magic Kiln... again! But bigger!

A kiln with magical properties

Allowed Zeus to be the first mass producer.

He made sure to make lots of effigies,

And became the top religious entity,

And thus invented the devotion inducer.

A trademark look and he was begun

Along the road of immortality.

To complement, a long string of stories strung

About his deeds and exploits far flung?

To impress the growing communities.

Tales of strength and great prowess,

His vanity knew no bounds.

His legend grew with every caress,

Every child fathered from each congress,

Tales of his conquests are easily found.

And it all started off with his little clay dolls,

That started a cult he wanted to make bigger.

So he encouraged men to fill power roles

And create buildings into the fold

Building up to the the wonder at Olympia.

Until things reached their inevitable peak,

After a classical period his majesty waned.

His image still was used but grew more weak

Until he finally withdrew, completely meek,

To wait adoration anew, ever to be pained.

The Magic Kiln

A kiln with magical properties
Allowed Zeus to be the first mass producer.
He made sure to make lots of effigies,
And became the top religious entity,
And thus invented the devotion inducer.

Month of May

Very calm, rarely does he gainsay, except when vehemently against the month of May: a month most vile unto him because of events in evenings dim when he was but six and was beaten with sticks by elves with a bloodthirst on May the first. 

By the second they'd almost drunk him dry, making them for one week high. While our boss-to-be survived on moss and wee before he could flee with the help of a pea.

While at seven he was almost sent to heaven on a bank holiday trip to Devon when all at once upon his bonce fell a rock the shape of France that made him do a silly dance the became known as The Prance but failed to fell our gentle lance.

At eight he walked the devil's gait and awoke to find a demon reasonably irate and he only escaped a grisly fate as the demon was not yet alert enough to feel hate.

At nine, that May was fine and quite benign.

When ten he nearly fell upon and beyond Big Ben when pushed by a force completely un-Zen but was saved by the ghost of Saint Stephen, who was dismayed by this curse of May.  

At eleven much like when he seven, he met horrors in the land of Devon.  While making a boast about the Jurassic Coast, he heard the roar of a dinosaur with a giant jaw that swooped and missed after feeling it had been dissed and called up a dino army soon defeated by a plan real barmy.

At twelve again it was elves that sought to undo him themselves with wicked malice and sawn-off shelves.  Again they drank, again they sank, and older as he was and bolder as he was, our boy broke free once conscious and drank no pee.

Throughout his teens the May malice mock-sheened, repeatedly attacking his spleen like an out of control annual machine.  One time it was a vampire, another a mad dwarf looking for a sapphire; once a zombie surgeon, then a mutated land sturgeon.

It only stopped when at university where he found a charm that worked universally.  A few years of carefree Mays followed until he lost it to vandal swallows and the horrors once again began with an attack on the hood of his man.

Since then he has faced monsters of every shape and description - to this day his months of May are littered with events not on his prescription.  And worse they grow looking for his ashes to sow.

So all year he riles in fear of May, never knowing exactly when or in what way misfortune will come unto him on May evenings as it grows dim. 
Now you may be a disbeliever but if you are a newspaper reader then look out for the strange reports and never let out that snort for you may yourself receive this curse - and possibly even much worse - for our boss did chide when he was five when he heard of a man attacked by a hive - and see what happened one year later?  Look out for the dissipater!

Note: entire blogpost may have stemmed from a misremembrance of the definition of gainsay....?

Sacrosanct

A place so sacrosanct,

It is flanked by army ants:

A place so dear to Control,

He has positioned his enrobed dolls:

Sent them in to protect-patrol

Where I grew and played,

And learned our people’s ways:

Where so many comrades

Their first and last dues paid,

He paranoidly keeps us at bay.

Old statues pulled, replaced by new,

Trying to make eternal our point of view.

The galleries re-hung with our revue:

This our church, albeit without pews,

But with Control’s column our altar anew,

Too high to reach,

Too high to impeach:

Our experiment failed when it leached

On its own blood and fleeced

Every citizen upon its leash.