Thursday, 8 December 2016

A Light Motive


Old demons never die, they simply dim their flames
And decompose through all the crime scene stages
Righteous hatred stiffening in the rigor of history
Prodded and examined, Questioned and challenged,
The images of fire debated and heat’s meaning discussed.
Then decomposition sets in and infernal foulness
Mulches down in parody and meme's rich loam
And makes of slicing stamping real, a simple word
A name to slander any, every, thing disliked,
Dust, then, to dust in sleeping eyes and demons wake
Unnoticed and unjust they change their name and sing
The same old songs, bright torchlit rallies seen anew
Men in rows, coloured spectacles where e-books burn
And the old fire kindles and liberty turns to face
The dawn with open, readied, leveled arms.

Jody Call


Drumbeats tonight and every night
Distant enough that you can lie to yourself
That it’s within you
Hypertense blood fleeing the pounding rhythm
Corpuscular refugees surge and rest, surge and rest,
Fading, flagging, carried in the current panic
Until depleted coming round again, again, again
To the drump, drump, drump
Of the remorseless heart and its everlong cadence,
Drum of the body politic, marking days gone and going

Bye, Koo.


Counting syllables
Does not make a haiku, pal
There's much more to them.


Thursday, 13 October 2016

In Support of the Land of Crasti


They were here, right here, I’m sure
Last night before I slept I’m sure I left them here
By the bed, by the alarm clock
Ready for me to pick up in the morning
I almost babble with panic as fingers scrabble
Over throat lozenges and fake wood veneer

Filled to bursting with the stuff I picked up in school
And added to with things I shaped myself
(haphazard and unwieldy though they were)
Shining and polished, and so so many of them
All ready to use, right here, I’m sure they were

Where did they go?  
Could they have been so carelessly mislaid
Or did some thief, clever-creeping come to my room
In the night
In the silence
And take them away?


My years.  Where have they gone?

(in response to Studio30Plus prompt "Babble")

Tuesday, 4 October 2016

Anathema Drumbeat


In the dusty caverns of the temple, in the burned out ashes of the hall
In the empty echoing of ages we stand and smile and silence takes it all
Through the endless empty march of seconds, Through the days so brilliant and bleak
Through the nights and through the days so foolish, are we quite so foolish as to speak?

Where’s the voice that once proclaimed the sunlight, Where’s the hand that framed the tyger’s fire
Where’s the blood the drowned a deadly serpent?  Who’s the fool who dares to thus enquire?
We will raise our voices in the silence, we will raise our hands to show our cause,
We will shed our blood if blood needs shedding, fear and fright will never give us pause

We have something shining and surpassing, We have life that quickens every heart.
We have that within that passeth knowledge, We have light and darkness. We have art.

(For Studio30Plus and their prompt "Anathema")

Friday, 24 June 2016

Here is wisdom.


“Vimes had once discussed the Ephebian idea of ‘democracy’ with Carrot, and had been rather interested in the idea that everyone had a vote until he found out that while he, Vimes, would have a vote, there was no way in the rules that anyone could prevent Nobby Nobbs from having one as well. Vimes could see the flaw there straight away.”


― Terry PratchettThe Fifth Elephant

Wednesday, 8 June 2016

Transformation





An alchemist scowled and he said
While gloomily scratching his head
Perhaps I’m too old
To turn self into gold
I guess I’m too easily led.


In Response to Studio30Plus' Prompt "Guess" or "Reckon"

Friday, 3 June 2016

The Watchers on the Wall

An extract from a manuscript discovered in the ruins of Lughdunum in the early 24th century following the great Barcode Wars.  It appears to have been a satirical play, author unknown.

This extract is from Act III of the play and takes place in Adlerstan on the Great Border


Guard 1 (entering):
What news my friend?  The waste beyond the wall?

Guard 2: 
Remains, unchanged. A desolation still.

Guard 1:
This watch is wearisome to me, and is
To each man of renown a burden bleak.
But needful, so they say, our pleasant land
To save and to preserve from evil days.

Guard 2:
What days more evil than those days we have
Could come upon us?

Guard 1:
Soft, and speak no more.
Such words as those are barbed, and pierce and tear,
And risk enough to hear, much less to speak.
There’s men enough to bear a tale for coin
And not for me the prison camp offshore.

Captain (entering):
What ho, what ho, you sturdy men and true

Guard 1:
Captain, good day

Guard 2:
Good day my captain bold.

Captain:
Good day indeed, dear lads, for I have news
Today our watch is brightened from above
For to the wall there comes to see our watch
And I predict on us to praises heap
Our leader, the eternal ruler Trump
Preserved by Art a century and more
Oh glory, glory and such glory thrice
To see our leader, why it’s…

Guard 1:
Very nice?
Oh Captain do we have the right to see
This wondrous Trump, the first of God’s decree
This paragon of triumph and of will?
This golden one?  Oh may he rule us still.

Guard 2:
Your irony is showing friend, back off

Captain:
What did you say my man?

Guard 2:
‘Twas just a cough.

Captain:
Stand to, good men and true, stand to indeed
And every buckle shine and button close
Your halberds and your crossbows polish all
I’ll go escort our leader to the wall
(exit)

Guard 1:
Great God in heaven is this not enough
To insult heap on this injurious toil
To have to smile and fawn on this… on this..
Bewigged, befouled vainglorious old boil!

Guard 2:
Peace, he comes, peace and speak no more your mind

(enter Captain and TRUMP an iron-lung on tracks, a bouffant blond wig blowing on top of it)

Captain:
Hail to the chief, good men, and Hail Indeed

Guard1:
Hail Trump, oh steel encased and mighty one

Guard 2:
Hail Trump, Lord of a time now spent and gone

TRUMP:
GOOD BOYS GOOD BOYS THE JOB YOU DO IS SWELL
TO STAND AND GUARD THIS BORDER WALL OF HELL
FROM TIMES WHEN LIFE WAS SMOOTH I CHOSE OUR FATE
AND AS I SWORE I MADE OUR COUNTRY GRATE

Captain:
Haha, good one, a double meaning there

Guard 1:
Good one my lord

Guard 2:
and is that really hair?

TRUMP:
YOU’RE DOING GREAT.  THAT’S IT I HAVE TO GO
AND RULE SOME MORE THE SHEEPLE DOWN BELOW
SOME GREAT NEW LAWS WILL SHORTLY BE ENACTED
TO SCREW THE [RACIAL EPITHET REDACTED]
AND SOON YOU’LL SEE MY PLAN WILL BE COMPLETED
DAMN THEM [RACIAL EPITHET DELETED]
(he trundles away followed by the Captain)

Narrator:
And so our tale must end this shocking scene
Of futures bleak, that current moods may presage.
And so, your humble narrator I’ve been,
I'm Thomas Marlowe – I endorse this message
(exeunt omnes)

In answer to Studio30Plus' prompt "VAINGLORIOUS"

Monday, 14 March 2016

Sneaky bug(ger)s

What would you do if you were a tiny insect and prey to those swooping swirling creatures of the night that can track you by sonar?

Obvious isn't it?

You learn to jam the sonar.

Bertholdia trigona, a moth native to the Arizona desert, emits ultrasonic clicks at a rate of 4,500 times per second to blur bats' acoustic vision
Next question.



What species are moving amongst us now that have the same jamming capabilities for our senses... and how would we ever know?