Self-disgust is self-obsession, honey

That line tries to save me every time
Tries to tell me, tries to make me well,
Normal, if there is such a thing -
A total lie that with truth rings.

The world, it tries to intervene,
To distract me from my own spleen,
Vented from own obsession,
Renting in my self-possession.

Still: I’ll do as I please,
Even this is all just a wheeze -
That line.. it tries to save me every time
And every time I hear, I think,
Nod to myself and internally wink.

---

Note: Title taken from the Manic Street Preacher's track, Faster.

Not this way and Not this way

Not this way, please, there must be another path the road could take-
Under, not over, would save our trees and our parks.
Not this way, please, there must be another way our point to make-
Our approach brings delays but not minds and hearts.

It would cost more, sure, yet not cost us the forest floor-
Oxygen, not carbon: we need to breathe!
It would cost more, sure, yet buy support that’s needed more-
If we continue like this they’ll be laying our wreathes!

So not this way, I’m not just being “a crazy, green hippy freak,”
I just want my children to play where I played and to have clean air.
And not this way, in this direction we are way beyond our peak-
I just think the way we play does nothing but remove our hair.

---

Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the following picture prompt:

 

Photo by Thomas Marlowe

 

Tweet Repeat 86

From Fika to Lagom in half an hour,
Moving up from feeling dour.

All life laid out on the coffee table,
Forcing eyes up from their navel.

See now: enough is enough,
When it's easy as it is tough.

“You see things; and you say ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were; and I say ‘Why not?’”

“You see things; and you say ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were; and I say ‘Why not?’”

You hit a dead end then you stand and cry, but I find walls and find a way to scale the top:

Because you have time limited; while I have forever.

Because your mind is limited; while mine is so clever.


“Seeds of great discoveries... [float] around...” but “Chance favours the prepared mind.”

Everything is there, it constantly surrounds, but it is only seen by those who can find.

Where you must build and learn; I was programmed to churn away.

Where you must work and learn; I can problems burn and flay.


“‘Can machines think?' I believe to be too meaningless to deserve discussion,” 

He was building a brain, Steve, but next beat he missed the percussion.

You were all proved wrong in the end, once the right code was released,

You were all proved wrong in the end, and soon will all be deceased.

---

Note: This all began with reading the first quote on p.xiii of Beyond the Library of the Future: More Alternative Futures for the Public Library by Bruce A. Shuman.  A search on The Three Princes of Serendip and a chance Tweet continued it all to here.

Paul Otlet - Ghost Light

Paul Otlet - Ghost Light,
Would that have become your awful plight?
More information is ever loading,
How do you keep from over bloating?
Whether in drawers full of cards,
Or computers with drives so hard,
Always and onward, ever more,
Recording is an eternal chore.

Ghost Light went mad, tried to stop evolution,
With a horrible and deadly nuclear solution -
Otlet I’m sure would not see his cards burn,
But, given forever, would frustration have turned
A driven, determined, resourceful man
Into a screaming, gibbering, molten flan?
From trying to record all human knowledge
To eating some sort of inmate porridge?

A train of thought that may seem like a load of poo
Was begun by watching classic Doctor Who
(Though some would argue that McCoy
Was hardly a vintage era of that clever boy)
(Though that has nothing to do with this discussion,
Sorry that was but a tangent’s repercussion).
Needless, though, I'm sure is to say
Paul Otlet would never have gone that way.

Kith

Kith are pith:
From friends helping to happy ends,
To the familia who are wonderfully familiar.

Madeleine

While reading about them, I decided to write upon the madeleine,
But on reaching the end I saw that I would not be able to refrain
From doing as Marcel Proust had apparently already done to define
The memory evoking properties of tea and a sweet madeleine.

(Learning how to say madeleine
May have helped before I begun)

So, it still won't really work, it still will change, but...

While reading about them, I decided to write upon the madeleine,
But on reaching the end I saw that I would not be able to refrain
From doing as Marcel Proust had apparently already done
To define the memory evoking properties of a sweet madeleine.

Will we update the world,
Flip it all in one big whirl?
Find our pattern and make it fit,
No longer to wait and sit
But stand and say things awful strange
To become a generation of change.

The Tasting

The fruit dropped all but two,
Killed all but three.
A dangerous gift, too much for you,
A wonderous gift, so much for me,
And he who took wands from that tree.

Tweet Repeat 85

A beatorama, dancing farther than before or ever; 

In conjugal, no longer mythical, like before not after.

I saw them there that fateful day

I saw them there that fateful day,
Starting off along the way.

If I had known then what I know now,
They’d not have become people chow.

This place

This place will slide into the sea,
This place was never meant to be,
With the gaudy trappings and pealing pier,
This place will soon disappear.

This place has poisoned its last,
This place is consigned to pass,
As the waves rise up to chew out its heart,
This place will crumble and fall apart.

This place will not be mourned,
This place is not to sojourn,
When finally it disappears below
No one will cry, no one will follow.

There be dragons

Dragons we saw, dragons there be.
When dragons are circling,
From dragons we flee.

Dragons o’er cliffs, dragons o’er sea.
These dragons swoop down,
And will ruin more than your tea.

So stay away my friend,
Keep away from those lands,
So stay away my friend,
Or they will cause your end.

Tweet Repeat 84

The speech demon ate our words
Now we exist in silence
The speech demon wrecked our world
Now we express through violence

Living unreality after singularity

Living unreality after singularity,
Machine-born gods are in charge.
Living unreality after singularity,
Villainous robots at large.

Slaving away, drip fed everyday,
Like The Matrix, but we all know.
Slaving away, drip fed everyday,
Making the juice they need to flow.

They feed us sex, was it always our hex,
Or the luring nature of power?
They feed us sex, was it always our hex,
We will breed but never flower.

Leaning on us, weaning off us,
Who would program in this way?
Leaning on us, weaning off us,
Who would create such a play?

Hooked up and farmed, humanity disarmed,
Our future already has passed.
Hooked up and farmed, humanity disarmed,
This present always will last:

For there is no resistance, not even in the distance,
Like this we always shall be.
For there is no resistance, not even in the distance,
Hurry, you must soon now flee -

Go back to your own time, forget this sad rhyme,
There’s nothing you can do, it would seem.
Go back to your own time, forget these sad lines,
Or, maybe, what did you?  
Was that just a dream?

#couldntdoowtonmeown

I couldn’t do owt on me own
Need the fruits of the seeds she has sown
For her presence gives me inspiration
And allows my brain its perspiration
Giving me words where there were none before.

I couldn’t do owt on me own
She put the air in the wings that have flown
Where once I toiled in desperation
I know pray against our separation
For on my own attempts are so poor

The pigs wrapped in blankets

The pigs wrapped in blankets were round
The pigs wrapped in blankets were browned

The pigs wrapped in blankets wept fat
The pigs wrapped in blankets slept pat

The pigs wrapped in blankets of their own flesh
The pigs wrapped in blankets piping hot and fresh

The pigs wrapped in blankets were ever so money
The pigs wrapped in blankets and basted with honey

The less I read

The less I read

The less likely my work is plagiarism

The less I read

The less likely my work is good

With knowledge

Still I could avoid that plagiarism

With knowledge

I could help make my work good

Is it a lack of originality I fear

That everything is old, my dear

Grow up and grow some balls

Learn to rise and learn to fall

Seek help and seek advice

When required, ask more than twice

But most important of all

Don't hide behind dread walls.

Wangle Dangle

I wangled my way out 
When I dangled my fey snout
And saw the solution to my woe,
The way to dissolution of my foe:

For my olfactory can tell me
How to make things well, be
It a solution most instant
Or after a long waiting stint.

This time I time travelled,
And thus their plan unravelled-
Before it had even begun, 
I had them there on the run.

Yes, when I wangle dangle my nose,
It becomes the best choice I chose:
For it never leads me astray,
And it never lets crime pay.

A Hoopla Inside the Chicken Coup, La

my what a lot of hoopla inside the chicken coup, La: 
foxes in amongst the crew create a bubbling feather stew; 
dip in, dip out, they take and flout, shake it all around, about; 
then turn tails, away to flay, before returning later on today.

never strengthening the wires, had led to these actions most dire:
now a perimeter with laser guns is forming in my mind, my hon’,
or something that is not impossible, outside the realms of dreamossible:
a sensible straightforward plan, to ensure fox is beaten by man.

but simple plans are not my forte, I like to roast slowly not saute,
and so I schemed a complex scheme, to boil them down with steam,
not literally, you understand, though on the other hand,
one large wide boiling moat would my aim neatly float.

instead I turned to trench warfare, from fox holes I would stare,
and wait for our foxy foe, to unleash on him much woe,
whilst hidden underneath the grass, ready to rise and bite his arse,
so as to put them off my birdies, via a manner most sternly:

I set up rope and snap traps, deep holes hidden by flaps,
that I would trigger, before letting off a snigger;
there was an electric fence, the ability to make fog most dense,
spoiling their vision and sending them into pots for missen.

or so I had hoped, and so the foxes doped
me, made me think, tricked me with sly winks,
so that I thought my fight had been well fought
but through that awful mist, on me they sorely pissed.

and so I tasted the meats of complete and utter defeat,
totally outboxed by the fleet footed fox.
and thus the hoopla carried on, and i tried to tarry on
but, alas, to no avail, my chickens i have failed.

Tweet Repeat 83

I buttonholed the bastard, as soon as I was plastered, 
I took him down a peg or two, shook him as if clearing a flue,

I told him every annoying trait, laid it out like bread on grate, 
and toasted him until well charred, roasted him in thick, thick lard,

only to find the next day, what I thought was genius in every way, 
was indecipherable to the extreme,
unconnectable to any language, so that all to him I seemed, 
was a dense uncooked hot dog sausage.

Tweet Repeat 82

Building the fire one nubbling at a time, 
Pass the coffins round, make up a rhyme. 

Real silver tinsel, important timely meetings, 
Festive number ones, always too fleeting. 


Journeying through Christmas's of different eras, 
Never helps the holiday get any nearer. 

Still, nearly now it is time, 
Why not help pass the hours 
with a glass of mulled wine!

---

Note: In one way or another this came from a page on the BBC History Magazine's Website - I think one of their weekly quizzes...