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| | Need i continue - poem in a Noel Coward style | | | | Sunday, May 10, 2009 (7:12 AM) | | Need i continue.
ASBO camp, archangel artemis cults,
ballroom style cooking, Brazilian chumps,
convicts clean couscous in Bexley on sea,
diabolical 'tits out' fraternal fiasci,
ethnological scrapes down drains with fandango's,
fortunate findings in Falmouth with Franco,
gazumping gogetters, crushed by the Yen fall,
pirates swiped off the shores of Lowenthal,
investigate ghostly inhuman positions,
jettison hippos from planes with a prism,
kinetic infection by tea, in a cup,
lugubrious lolloping layabout lumps,
majestically masticate Magdalen mumps,
need i continue ?
by AL2 | | | 35 Views | 0  Thumbs Up | 0 Comments |  |
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| | Weality TV - poem in a Noel Coward style | | | Sunday, May 10, 2009 (3:46 AM)
(I'm feeling grumpy) | | weality-tv...
Make over my house, before it collapses,
a pink wall, a taup wall, with neon moustaches.
Make over my body, my flab and my handles,
my fat eyes, my black teef, and gutteral quango's.
Make over my life, and my soul and my heart,
and please turn me into a slim TV tart.
..And please can you look at my back gawden too,
there's dwainpipes and slainpipes, and the odd... sodden shoe,
..and when you cruise home to parterre's back in Bwighton,
i hope you reflect on the lives you've shed light on.
The good you have done, and the wisdom imparted,
our lives are much better nor that you have started.
Oh give me weality, but just on TV,
i like it well filtered like latte... 'Cappuchinii',
I don't like the bit's that get stuck in one's teeth,
i dont like the smell's, or the lump's, or the heat.
Oh give me Weality...Wee..a..li..teee !,
I like it much better,
when it's on TV..
poem by al2 | | | | 34 Views | 3 Thumbs Up | 2 Comments | |
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| | pigs | | | | Sunday, March 29, 2009 (7:04 PM) | | Pigs, like dog's
are loyal, faithful, and intelligent.
We eat them, cured, as bacon.
Don't they, taste,
just a little bit like human ? | | | | 121 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 1 Comment | |
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| | i want a pet hyeana (repost) | | | | Sunday, March 22, 2009 (6:51 AM) | | I want a pet hyaena.
A devil dog trotting by my side,
with haunches hinting homicide.
A wicked toothy grin that's found,
to laugh aloud with tummy scratching.
Jaws, more ripping than a shark,
with unconditioned love, dispatching,
ghosts that will disrupt our pack,
of wild dogs bounding in the dark.
I want a pet Hyaena Man !
as tall as half a man.... and some.
I want a pet Hyaena, to
protect me, in the dark to come.
AL2 | | | | 289 Views | 2 Thumbs Up | 1 Comment | |
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| | Musee des Beaux Arts - W.H. Auden 1940 | | | | Friday, January 23, 2009 (2:39 PM) | | About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
| | | | 53 Views | 2 Thumbs Up | 1 Comment | |
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| | Vaguely engaging multi - media diversions | | | | Monday, November 17, 2008 (11:19 PM) | | Fancy Listening to Bertrand Russell instruct you in the byways of Relativity, or does Plato's Republic pique your interest ? Or perhaps a meditation on converse nodes of conciousness' ing ? Or maybe a Post Surrealist illustrational codex of plantlife ?.....Barthes, Mythologies on PDF....Exited yet ?...... click here.
| | | | 74 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments | |
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| | Autumn | | | | Sunday, March 22, 2009 (7:01 AM) | | Autumn is coming....The sun finally reaches into my bathroom,
I imagine you must get it too, that season, in your lattitudes.
That favourite season , fan the flames, of the leaves,
that are burning in all the parks of the endless city.
The smoke of the flames fills the air and turns the sunset orange.
awaking tomorrow in a frosty frozen fog,
There is happiness, and at one-ness.
aL2
| | | | 177 Views | 2 Thumbs Up | 2 Comments | |
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| | An encounter on a lonely county road. (re-post) | | | | Sunday, March 22, 2009 (6:57 AM) | | At sunset, a man is walking alone along a narrow country lane, unknown known to him.
The borders are high, dark and overgrown with brambles, rustling bushes and black weeds.
Only his breathing and footsteps break the silence. Now, over his shoulder the song of a night bird, his only companion, a solitary cloud streak shifts above from yellow to pink / orange black.
In the distance he thinks he hears sounds, alike to people approaching, many people,
now louder, perhaps dozens, or hundreds, a light flickers in the distance,
the light of a torch, now clearer, chants and calls, banging drums and voices raised....
He is suddenly afraid and run's back into the twilight, seeking a remembered break in the
hedges, somewhere to conceal himself as the noise draws ever closer.
He finds a gate leading to a field where stands a great oak tree.
He hides behind the tree, and watches the thronging colourful procession pass by.
A thousand figures in wonderous costumes, carrying curious coloured lamps and candles,
It is a great procession, a masque, all of life is there in joyous celebration, fruit bat's and cats and elephants, goldenhounds and monkeys, blue frogs and blue bears and eagles of shimmering stardust, chamelion hummingbirds and black parrots, giant transparent tortoises dancing, acro bat's and Ra-chitect's, high wire juggler priests and tritone singers, star magicians, floats and floating songs and spaceshapers, miniaturists, kineticists, ticckertapers, soldiers and sailers, clockwork'd and baroque fine finned flyerwork'd stars,
in most beautious and diverse conjunction, real and sunreal and all of one voice and benign intention.
A persisting soft silent background Ohmmmm.....
But still the bright lights and bawdy noises strike fear to his weary jaded soul, and now....even as they begin to fade
a small dark figure opens the gate, enters the field and walks directly towards his hiding place.
His heart in throat pounds with apprehension, approaching, dressed in black,
a Human of great age and wisdom, but with a strangely youthful and gentle demeanour .
What is this great carnival, and why ? He asks. She smiles and reaches into the folds of her black gown,
and pulls out a small long ebony case, and shows it to him.
she clicks open the case, a flint and a piece of iron glisten softly in the violet dusk.
"It is the Lord Buddha" she says turning, walking away, melting into the gloom.
by aL2 | | | | 185 Views | 4 Thumbs Up | 2 Comments | |
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