Staring at the sea

I am a poet. I can make it.

The sea gives me inspiration.

I take it. I hear a call, I fake it.

I am a living being. A mortal.

Pitting my skills against Poseidon…

 

Standing on the shore staring out.

The sea stares back, oblivious

Obviously, I have clout

to choose my time, my weapon of choice

to defeat the incoming tide

to cease the action.

 

I choose to defer the fight until one day

when the sea stand still and I like armour

walk out sending saltwater ripples to India

and other far-off seas. I will again plant my staff

and speak quietly ‘action’.

 

Upon which time from far away over the horizon

will come to a roar to be afraid of

Poseidon riding a water Stallion

complete with armour and spear.

 

I will sit and wait till he is near. And then shout,

‘Global Warming CO2!! We know all about you currents and ocean streams over continents and seas. Give up the fight and hand me, the lady of the sea, my bride’

And thoroughly beaten he by mankind’s malady he produced at once

a poet of the sea.

 

Whom I took by the hand and introduced myself

‘poet, of land and sea, pleased to meetcha lady!’

She came home with me and the rest, for now, is history, evaporated.

 

I still hear her in my ear everytime fate draws near

the call of the lady of the sea.

And when I go out I hear her in my thoughts.

And when I worry she draws near

And when I pray she is in my thoughts.

But never can I find her gaze in a public place.

She isn’t made like me, the lady of the sea’

 

So now I need to rehydrate to Water Up and reclaim

What once belonged to me.

To Poseidon, once more Poseidon Do I make myself clear?

I command thee, ruler of the restless sea, return my lady to me!! (to me)

Return my lady to me!

 

Perhaps I am so far away and so commonplace that he ignores me. perhaps he doesn’t even hear me.

I have made the journey, nay the pilgrimage to where once the lady did come to me and I spoke to the God himself but what seems lacking could be chemistry.

What reaction?

What formula?

What Measurements?

What subscriptions?

Tiny URL is me

tiny as a crab in a rockpool, only a baby, whats left of me.

p-sei-don, ps-eid-on, ps-ei-don I command me!!

‘Grow UP!’ Said I

‘Don’t be a wimp, Stand up and be a man!!’ said a voice

 

So, wearing my badges of time and of pleasure (seemingly fatuous feeling) I perspire freely and march steadily once more to the sea.

Lady of the sea, Come forth, I command thee! I shouted loudly.

A seagull flew overhead and the world otherwise ignored me.

 

I think being built on pleasure which is shifting like sand no castle could be built upon me. I need the rock of experience to guide me.

So off I went and through trials of land and fire did put myself until I had enough experience to lay down on the ground before me and call it ‘my home’

And again I returned to the beach and called directly.

‘From the sand of the beach, out of my reach, lady come before me’

And I waited. and waited. Wait some Was I? made famous by the grains underneath me?

But it was a day before I heard a noise which waked me and a voice which did say

‘may I come inside’ which scared me so I said ‘NO’ loudly and went back to sleep.

 

Oh malady, m’lady mad at lad me! How sorry can I be?

There isn’t a happy ending in sight. How can I put things right?

 

One day I journey back to the sea and look for the rock of ages.

I bit down on it with all my might and cracked a tooth clean out.

With blood running down my face I shouted ‘Lady of the Sea, Come to me’

People looked at me like I was crazy. Some lady offered me a tissue and suddenly I felt the pain in my tooth so ran off home.

The next time I sought lady I would be ready. So I called again to the sea every Friday and half-past three until I heard a reply. Three false alarms and a prohibition order I did receive.

I decided that although he was a man of God form I would go for Poseidon and use the CO2 alarm like I did before.

This got me a punch in the jaw.

Forsaken by whom? Didn’t I nurture words from the womb?

 

Wandering days ensued and with much encouragement, I made a plan. To catch out Poseidon at his own game. I spied upon a webcam someone doing it in a foreign land. Now I have the answers minus one. All I need is to westernise and make them mine.

How folly was I as I was ignored by both Poseidon and his lady, the sea.

One day I tripped on a rock as I aimed pebbles at the waves and fell down upon my nose.

I felt sorry for myself and my woes did proclaim ‘Nobody ever listens to me’ and as snot ran down my nose I knew it to be true. Forever I would be blue.

But then as The sea soaked into my cold trousers and over my chest, I heard a sound a chorus of a melody. I looked up and saw three faces heavenly singing to me. Mermaids of the sea. They smiled and coddled and made a fuss. I felt remembered and alive and did they remain in my memory as I made my way home? I was filled with words and their love.

So the next time I went to the sea I went with a joy that I hadn’t felt for a long time.

I approached the shore put one foot in the water and said solemnly.

‘Poseidon and Lady. You have tricked me. You are heartless soul free beings.

I have worked and wept and been in salt water up to m’ chest and have discovered

dignity. Come or come not to me this day. For I can go away and play In my own realm

where I have learned to make a stand and not to feel sorry for myself!! No longer like a forlorn wood elf but I make my ribs like a ship’s timbers and say I am not going away!!

I am not going away!! Gods are forgotten. Words are beholden to me and carry me to a place with those I wish to be with. And make it sharpish.’

I waited and waited then saw in the distance a wave heading in my direction.

And I asked myself. ‘Could this be- my lady of the sea?’

 

to be continued…

Octogon Prime

Octogon Prime.png

Otherwise known as T’chu. T’chu is the leader of this alien race that has lived in near isolation on their planet in a distant galaxy. They have the ability to transform themselves or to join up with others to make giant superstructures which they use in worship or other ceremonies. Peaceful and warlike their isolation has not dulled their keen intellects and senses. They stage large scale military exercises on the dark side of their planet where they feel an attack will most likely take place. Communicating via ESP the race has mastered communication over the known ranges of the E-M-Spectrum which they require for when infected with flu like illness which periodically sweeps their planet knocking out their shape forming and Extra Sensory Perceptive abilities. At any one time, only fifty percent of the population are available for military or ceremonial activities, the other half lying around the place like liquid silicon rubber and large loose crystals.:)
DO YOU WANT A COMIC?
I DO
I DO
I DO!
:D
Thank you for reading. Your commentz are gratefully received.

Whence

It began like so many other stories in the wind, On a hilltop overlooking a vale. A farmers yard, clean except for the odd wisp of straw and a gardeners fork that was resting against a steel gate, the clucking of hens and the mooing of the cows mixed in with the gentle bleats of the sheep and the goat tied on a rope wearing a dog collar. A news reader may have described the scene as bucolic and the scent in the air of newly turned over hay certainly lent itself to that description.

It’s time to introduce our protagonist to this story. It has eight legs and two  grasping pedipalps and a narrow segmented tail that ended in a stinger that arched over its back like some futuristic un-yet designed suspension bridge support array. It turned its body by means of complicated manoeuvrings of its many legs and maintained balance like a fulcrum bridge. By this perfect balance it could maintain a spin on two feet like a ballerina in a pirouette a behaviour usually only seen in the wild. Right now it was spinning in an anti-clockwise direction its pedipalps held up in the air and its tail turned over almost touching its own back in a move that would have made Margot Fonteyn proud.But this was no demure female ballerina but a wild rogue male that had been banished from the desert sands by its titular leaders for going rogue and eating its own children and killing anything that came close.

It was the alpha male gone wild that spawned a play by the late great Cuckaburrow playwright the arachnid Bellatrix the female wolf spider. And it was this play that has inspired so many other spiders and many-legged creatures that tonight’s battle would take place to bring the killing to a symbolic end, and to have a damn good show  by the fight going to the death of one or more of its competitors. The warm up would be some dancing by both hostile opponents while doing some more killing of other convicted felons. Such was the vicious killing wheel that turned diurnally, day after day, beneath our feet.

Unfortunately, a written account of the actual events was lost in the great fire of ’86 so nobody actually there can testify them all being long preserveI. But i thought I’d share what I know. I imagine the combatants arrived on the wind on threads of silk on the evening breeze..

 

 

 

Ascending Denial

A whack candle holder in enamelled metal holding a white candle which is burning. Undisturbed I think I try to reflect on the stillness and to find the right words but instead of prose I get a big fat nothing and end up feeling empty. In the bed also made of enamelled metal a dying man or woman whose breaths rattle out of an impaired chest then out of thin dry lips opens Rheumy eyes before again closing to the world. A nurse comes and pulls tight the sheets over the soon to be corpse. This is the humane way I observe wryly as I glance at the headlines of the Daily Herald which gives news of the living I think. Better a quick death in the prime of life than this slow wasting into demise I think gripping the newspaper tightly like my own grip on life depended on it. People should not see that I think.this It’s too.real…I couldn’t find the words and let out a lot of air. I must have been holding it I think glancing down at the print again.

 

Greebo and Toad LeStrange

‘What a strange place to begin writing about your life,’ said Toad

‘The Pond?’ said Greebo

‘Yes Greebo, The pond. It’s hardly the place to start writing about one’s life. It’s not where we started. It’s where we end up! Figuratively speaking you understand’ replied toad

‘I began life in a hole in a ground…There was nobody else around…I could hear myself farting!’ said Greebo

‘That’s you! Greebo!’ said toad laughing.

‘But writing is a vocation, a calling not a profession in an isolated white clinical room with no windows,’ proffered Greebo

‘Right! my friend. But wrong also,’

‘The hole in the ground, where it all began. I was nothing but a caveman without a plan but I recognised my calling…’ uttered Greebo.

‘Such a fine story for one so young So where did it all go wrong?’ asked toad.

‘Wrong? It did not go wrong wrong like cameltoe thong just sing along I’ll be gone in w while’ sang Greebo.

‘Not wrong then. But delayed,’ returned toad.

‘Nothing a spell can’t help with’ offered Greebo

‘No we don’t need your spells Greebo. Something will come along. It always does,’

‘A spell of Fine Weather my friend. That will put things right in the end,’ Said Greebo with authority.

‘The End Of the Beginning. The beginning of the End.Whats the difference?’ sang toad

‘None.There’s none at all. We got to fall to stand up again and look around’ said Greebo

‘Like from a  hole in the ground,’ said Toad

Dusk falls…

‘Disappointed…’ said Greebo

‘In what?’ asked toad.

‘In the glum,’ replied Greebo

‘Sitting there in the sun waiting for the clouds to arrive again.’ Said Toad.

‘Shadow,’ said Greebo with a sneer

‘And light,’ said toad

‘depression,’ said Greebo

‘Happiness Greebo,’said Toad triumphantly. ‘Happiness shines lights into the shadows and illuminates our minds’ exclaimed toad.

‘thoughts and deeds’ finished Greebo

‘Pity we don’t have any tea. I could do with a cup now,’ said toad

‘Hows about newt piss and rain?’ Asked greebo, grinning.

‘Capital idea Greebo. Capital.’ said toad.

And that night went by so . No. Thats life!

Walking Up The Beach

I found a pretty stone one day while walking up the beach and put in my pocket. When I got home I put it under the tap dried it then put it on top of my piano. The stone stayed there for years and I always looked at it when I played alone or in company. It was a part of me, of my make up that little stone.

One day I was walking up the beach and I found a bone. I put it in my pocket carried it back home where I washed it I then put it on top of my piano next to the stone. And I always looked at the bone which sat next to the stone on top of my piano when I played alone or with pleasant company. It became part of my make up that little bone.

One year In midwinter I was walking up the beach when I found a mobile home. It was deserted and the keys were in the ignition so I drove it home where  I took  my little stone and my little bone and put them on the dashboard.Whenever I put on a CD of piano music while in company or while alone I would tap the beat on the dashboard of my new mobile home. It became part of me that mobile home.

A decade later I was walking up the beach and I found a woman alone. So I took her home washed her and sat her by the piano next to my mobile home parked outside the window opposite my piano where sat the bone and the little stone. And while playing my piano  in pleasant company or alone I would look at the woman and smile. She became a part of me that woman.

Now In my eighties, I can’t walk that far so I take my mind for a walk up the beach instead and what do I see but a little pretty stone, a bone, a mobile home and a woman alone. Ohh I say and smile. It was there all the while. So I get rid of the little stone , the bone and my mobile home. And when I play the piano in pleasant company or alone I open my minds eye and see the woman alone, the mobile home, the bone and the pretty stone and knew they were a part of me.

Now I am dosed up on pills and painkiller  and  have no time for walking up the beach in my head or with pleasant company.  When I am playing my piano sometimes I hum out loud a tune I wrote. One for the stone. One for the bone. And one for my mobile home. And the woman alone sings.

I first loved a stone,

Then I loved a bone,

Then I loved a mobile home,

Then along came a man alone,

And I loved him too.

And I lived EVERYTHING!

EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING!

and I crashed my spindly hands down on the keys harder and louder until the vase fell off the top and smashed on the floor. With tears in my eyes, I put my hand’s between my legs and sobbed for a life not equalled except by this woman alone.

Good, Feeling Fine

Thanks, Ephraim!

No Problem Joe.

OK! We good to go?

Sure, are! Just a swig of that old Mas’

Sure Eph. Here y’are!

Ohhh that’s mighty good.

How you feeling Eph?

Good Joe, Feeling Fine!

That’s us Eph! Good, Feeling Fine drinking Old Mas’ Wine

Hey, Joe that sure sounds like a good time drinking Old Mas’ Wine

(Together) Hey! That rhymes!

(Together) Our indoors says we haven’t got a clue Ha ha

No.

But we don’t just sit there feeling all blue No No

We find each other and get out of town Yeas Yes

Where nobody can hear us fooling around

We got Old Mas’ Wine

And we know how to have a good time

Watching the daytrippers arrive 

Then leave with the tide

OHH! We know how to have a good time

Ha ha ha ha ah

Oh Joe AAAAAA’m A Feeling AAALLL Blue!

Oh! Eph I think I’m blue too.

Why? Well were out of old Mas’ wine Joe

And dat der off license is all gone closed

perhaps it’s time we got on home and saw our wives?

(together) Ohhh! Nooooooo!

(Together) Our indoors says we haven’t got a clue Ha ha

No.

But we don’t just sit there feeling all blue No No

We find each other and get out of town Yeas Yes

Where nobody can hear us foolin around

We got Old Mas’ Wine

And we know how to have a good time

Watching the daytrippers arrive 

Then leave with the tide

OHH! We know how to have a good time

OI!

Peony, Cartwright c.1908/Thorny Devil

During a drought everything is thirsty for liquid sustenance. Even the ground itself is parched dry and its wells give up nothing that eases the suffering of the many and of the few.

The few fight on, cropping precious droplets from the air and from steep rock-faces to collect the early morning dew which they strain into a leather flasks to keep it cool. Washing is done in the sand which the dung beetles keep clean where iguanas scuttle and dart and the cactus plant survives. The headstone reads

‘Here lies Peony, Cartwright Born 1883 Died c.1908. Mother and wife, sister and Christian. R.I.P. May she have more luck in the next life.’

Meanwhile in the saloon, the old joanna plays a lilting tune chosen by the player in memory of better times when,  touched by fortune and plenty, people did come and patronise this small little town in the hills of Setchkwan, Nevada. They came for minerals, buried in the nearby hills, they came for beer and for good times often at the expense of the god folk of Setchkwan who would vote against a casino license but who opened a brothel instead. This happy compromise was soon mirrored by others on the trail and soon you couldn’t go more than twenty miles without getting laid said the visitors to this town.

Now all hope is gone and the dead the undertaker cannot dispose of are dropped over Old Parsons Cliff so they don’t stink up the town. The Mayor dead, the deputy himself hanged, the last cart gone. No water for horses or steed. Only dry corn to chew that makes you cough until one day you have coughed your last and take your place draped over an old family grave a sign around your neck reads’No More Room’.

I am burned , my skin cracked and blistered by her who used to give life. There is no more…

Thorny Devil.

 

 

 

When Windows 95 Rocked

This one’s for you, my friend.

 

I used to think that long hair was cool, that Alanis Morrisette was a tool

And that Cummerbands were the height of goth fashion. And the world

was turning ever so slowly after the Mac plus and Mac SE30 days I remember

from my childhood spent spilling blood, unintentionally of course.

 

Then one day I heard upon biscuits dunking on the news of Windows and how

it was sweeping aside the Macs and Unix-like some big-eyed bug who liquefied

desktops for a living. Ha! I thought this Micro-soft Windows will soon be everywhere

Wouldn’t It be nice to have my share?

 

So off I went to Waterstones and my local Prometric testing centre and PC supplier

and purchase a Windows 95 desktop computer with modem and CD Drive and speakers.

I took it home and plugged it in and got it all setup. This is the future in my living room,

Big Spiders and A windows 95 manual the internet, Netscape and Paint Shop Pro!

 

I forgot that some boys wear curlers  and my time was miserable filled with icons and

progress bars while other partied from dusk until dawn and in magazines the strange

language used to explain was human enough to understand but alien enough to make me

dribble for the riches that would come if I tamed this dragon son of mine. Networking for

Windows 95.

 

For the record, it was just as I had envisioned. Everywhere you looked was Windows just

as predicted. I worked my way up to Head of Antivirus and saved the company millions

of beans by tackling Chernobyl to the ground before it took out the majority of the

desktops in our company. Promotion followed and a payrise.

 

But the wheels of change were turning and turning and my mainstay which was

mainframe became obsolete and then along came a manager and asked me ‘What is it

you actually do?’ I thought honesty would be the best policy but soon I found myself on

the moon an access programming book in my hand far away from the computer room of

old.

 

It just goes to show that lives can and will change despite how much information you

give to your followers about your wisdom and experience which is worth less than a mint

boxed retail edition of Windows 95 OSR2 which can now change hands for twice its

original value.

So, friend. Thanks for dropping by and if you ever wonder why it’s the story that’s out to get you. Well, you could always try writing your own. 😉

 

Big Red Race Car

Vrummmmmmm, Vrummmmm

Mirror, signal,  manoeuvre

How am I doing? Anything coming?

HOW AM I DOING?

I’ve got a big rad race car

It’s made up of parts of me

Really I’m a machined pice of engineernig

of glistening pieces , of glistening pieces.

oiled and lubed up the eyballs blue, eyeballs blue.

HOW AM I DOING?

I can’t see, youre in the way. Just tell me

HOW AM I DOING?

Your fine. you can …GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Sorry, my foot slipped onto the accelerator there.

You can go!

YOU CAN GO!

Hurrah! We’re driving…Put the stereo on. something rocking…

’cause we doing it violent, Big and silent, big and silent, midnight violence

‘What did you say?

Crap. Was I speaking out loud?

Did You say something about midnight violence?

Yeah sitting pretty in the city and crying at the violence going on all around us

Yeah right…

Let us pray ‘We want no more violence here today’

You’re not funny.

But I’m saying all the right things ,baby. Don’t you trust me anymore?

(turns away)

(accelerates) Let’s go honey. Let’s go…

I don’t want to. Turn around.

Oh, Honey..not tonight..You promised.

Don’t turn this around on me. You..Paedophile!!!

What…have…I…done…now?

Turn around. I’m not going. Stop the car.

SCREEEEECH. Tires smoking rubber. Passenger door open the SLAMS shut.

Get OUT! GET OUT? GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT! (bangs on the roof)

Groans here we go again.

I saw in your favourites Nubiles.Net.

Ohh Aww that’s not porn?

Not porn. it’s underage girls.

No, it isn’t

Yes it is

No, it isn’t

Don’t I turn you on baby? Aren’t I enough for you?

Don’t start that again.

Baby, I need You I loved you do you remember?

Well, all that can be turned round. Just a phone call and it’s all over baby blue.

Walks round to the other side of the car.

Come on then hit me again

Slaps her HARD

Big in the city tonight huh?. Get in the car bitch and shut your face.

Fuck you asshole. I got a gun.

Wha?

Whooah Big boy! Don’t cha lose your cool now? Don’t forget Daddy rules (waves the gun around)

Where did you get that?

Of Lemmy. He came around to my way of thinkin’.

Lemmy huh? I knew he can’t be trusted.

Well he can be and there’s more of us than you Daddy cool so hand over the keys

They’re in the ignition.

Well, this is where you and I say good-bye Daddio. (blows HIM a kiss)

Get in the car and turns up the stereo.

‘FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON’ (fires twice out the window)

She Accelerates and drives off into the horizon sending up clouds of dust and smoke.

TO BE CONTINUED…