Ambiguity

Ambiguous soul,
Androgenous whole -
Everything about me is grey.

Ambiguous soul,
Androgenous whole -
On no side will I enter the fray.

---

Written using the Merriam Webster Word of the Day for 24th April 2017: Ambiguous.

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.

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 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.

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.