Re-Written for the final Rick Mobbs image prompt. SOON The Martians are laughing at the odd, man-made dog, who 'conquered' the moon. Soon they'll reveal themselves as the little 'tin gods' that they think they are. They'll emerge from the shadows, throwing hot rocks at the automaton.
That poor dog, no space tree to bark at, legless, stranded, like a dead duck! The Martians, standing there like Montezuma, ejaculating fire. Spurting from every orifice and projectile of their tall tin frame.
But NASA will cut the delayed transmission - to the people on earth. A million Internet flunkies will never quite know what's just gone wrong. They press a button, terminate the session, find something else to do.
You think I'm kidding, maybe? the Martians will be laughing at us soon! 070797
Posted for Totally Optional Prompts I elected to take the totally optional option this week. ALMOST The first time, you're really subjective, autobiographical, almost.
Then later when you've had time to shop around, you get objective, pessimistic, almost.
And then, when you find your 'own voice' you become romantic, optimistic, almost.
But they do say that: 'Patience is a virgin', almost! 080797
Written for Sunday Scribblings. CONFESSIONAL Just to prove to myself that I don't know what I'm doing when I'm drunk. I went out to the pub last night and had a couple of pints, of Rum! I rolled home about two or three a.m. and crashed out on the sofa. Some time later, I woke up, crawled up the wooden hill and went to bed. It's not like me to get pissed so easily but when I do I zonk! And when I zonk, I snore, so the sofa is the only place to go. Sometimes the walls are paper thin, like in my house, then the whole gaff shakes!
I'd really like to have a date with you but don't let me near the Rum. Or the Vodka or the Whisky or the whiskey or the G and T. In fact, make me steer clear of the top shelf, don't let me near the vino. The laughing gear is strong enough for me but it has to be hand pulled. From the wood and gravity fed, I know they say: keg still does the trick. But any Tom, Dick or Lazarus can get up after a few of them! Forgive me Father, for getting Brahms, It's been a Rum time since my last... 261008
Posted for Totally Optional Prompts Piccadilly-Pick-pocket! ASSAULT + FLATTERY. Daisy Dippy on the 'dilly kissed my lips and touched my willy must've thought that I was silly. When she said she liked Big Ben! I didn't know she meant my ten... quid that she slid into her pocket that she dipped from my sky rocket! AS1393 Glossary Dippy, Dip = pick-pocket 'dilly = Piccadilly Big Ben = rhyming slang for ten quid = £1 English money (slang.) dipped = stole, pickpocketed sky rocket = pocket Have you read my poem Polyamourosity yet?
Written for the Writers Island prompt - Controversial POLYAMOUROSITY (ME + HER + HIM + HER + POLLY) Little miss Polly polyamorous Don’t she just think that she’s so glamorous Her, him and her mono-poly combo
Dancing in the gym with him she thinks, hey Beats that polyester fashionista From the polytechnic that lives next door
Or that bloke, misogynist Sylvester With his carrier bag mentality Serial monogamist, etcetera.
Then there’s that polythene politician Who has no clue about which way is up Is he hetro, homo, bigot or what?
Polygamy is seen as blasphemy Metro sex, - metrosexuality? Polyamorist, - polyamory!
Mahogany bedpost monogamous Monotonous monogamy? Not me I’m a multidimensionality
Posted for the Read Write Poem prompt: of Monsters + Dinosaurs YESTERDAY IS DEAD! Yesterday is dead yes that's what I said yesterday is dead! You won't catch me digging for dinosaur bones. Hell, I've got enough troubles of my own. You're sixty-five million years behind the times. So, don't speak to me about your scientific finds. Don't talk to me with your pre-historic minds. 'cos, You won't catch me digging for dinosaur bones. Hell, I've got enough troubles of my own. Yesterday is dead, yes, yesterday is dead + done. But babe, you wouldn't think it, the way those boffins go - on, talking about the past like it's the 'In-thing' to know! You won't catch me digging for dinosaur bones. Hell, I've got enough troubles of my own. They cite devolution, like it's some kindda solution. It's a piss-poor contribution! If that's the way they think, that we oughta grow. Yesterday is dead yes that's what I said yesterday is dead! 4599 I had to dig this one out of the archives and dust it off. It was originally written in 1999 in response to the science fiction movies Jurassic Park 1+2 I think that I thought of them as being some kind of cyclical prophesy that the world was devolving into.
VINGT GITANES. I wander alone in this great place no-one bothers me, hardly, apart from a few girls, calling out of upstairs windows after dark. 'Hey English!' and 'Sprecken sie Deutch?' But I'm tongue tied, except for Vingt Gitanes, Sil vous plait! and Merci becoup, Madamossell! After a while I start to read the shop front names. The street signs come alive - Rue de St. Germain, Montparnasse and Parc de Champs de Mars. Advertising bollards suck me in. Newspaper HEADLINES shout at me. Eventually, I speak my first French sentence. But the girl behind the Turkish bar answers me in broken English. Chicago, hey Mac? she asks. Manchester! I tell her. Oh, Bobby Charlton! she grins. And I can't tell if she's taking the piss out of my haircut, or what? From 1987 rewritten 20697 and previously posted on my StraightTalkingStreetTalkingSweetTalkingGuy..archive. Here's a link to a picture of Sir Bobby Charlton. Finally, the September issue of Nicola Batty's Newsletter Raw Meat.. is now Online.
Hi everybody, Here's a link to a Manchester writer we know. Steve Taylor author of The Fall and Making Time has written some cool poetry and posted it on his website. Clink-the-link-HERE.
Hi everybody, just back from Lower Shaw Farm but I'm not about for long, 'cos we're off to Norfolk in a few days. I've posted a bit about my first amazing trip on Nicola's Raw Meat site in my Urban Scrawl column over there, you might have to scrawl down to the end of the post if you want to read it. Anyway, I'll try and write a poem for tomorrow!
