Thursday 27 June 2013

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.

Wednesday 26 June 2013

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.

Thursday 20 June 2013

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?

Tuesday 18 June 2013

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

Friday 14 June 2013

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.

Tuesday 11 June 2013

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.


Tuesday 4 June 2013

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?