Missive From ‘Merica: The Limey and the Coco Pops

Coco Poppy

*Thank fuck, Poppy tweeted that to us last night, Clicky… /lights up… Or I’d have been completely bolloxed for a post title… /drags…*

Last night, Cade FON Apollyon, a.k.a. The Unseen Synchro, a.k.a The Okie Devil of Text Us asked me and Poppy Sweet Pea to provide him with some words, from which he would write a poem…

Said poem is contained within Cade’s latest missive, below…

tumblr_ok39psvabm1snme67o4_400

*That’s right, Clicky… /blows smoke ring… down there…*

Dear Reader… Enjoy! ❤

*******

Someone might enjoy this.
^Iron Maiden – Behind The Beast^

I once wrote a certain poem,

but can’t recall what it said.

So now here it sits aching,

bouncing round in my head.

Wrote some parts down, that had a certain sound.

Certain parts rhymed, other parts timed.

One part climbed,

another piece descended.

Don’t recall where it all started,

nor even if anything ended.

There must be a way in, to the place to begin.

First…to find out how, my way out of…now.

Some thoughts run free and freely,

others disappear in a stare.

Some are likely gone forever,

a few are written down somewhere.

Take out the trash, Danish mash.

Write it down, or face the frown.

There’s one part I tried to remember,

but cannot recall the details.

Likely a something of beauty,

perhaps bunny rabbits, wasps, or snails.

Formulaic attributes, proxy gaps and substitutes.

Removed this line, I’m sure it was fine.

Does she really exist out there,

or am I being silly…a dupe.

Like some sort of prize or plunder,

a cold journey that ends with hot soup.

You’ll be there, when you are there.

You were there, you aren’t there.

This end of that one here now,

the end of this one a time later.

I’ve forgotten what this one was about,

perhaps I’ll remember it…

^The Bloody Beetroots – Detroit (Ghetto Edit)^

What a bunch of fucking weirdos.
^1977 TV Synthesizer Special^
If you thought that shit was weird, check THIS shit out.
^1969 World’s First Electronic Pop Song^

All of the people in the above two vids are either all:

A) dead from disease, or

B) all strung out on drugs while waiting to be dead from disease.

I read a lot of facts and figures, and those facts and figures are very clear…everyone is either dead, or about to be. Seriously. You are either dead, or about to be, and you are either on drugs, or about to be.

Lots of information and facts and figures floating around that prove this to be correct. A lot of these political Tweets are fucking weird. The ones that are always tell people to stand up? What does that even mean, other than you telling me I’m already down. Not only are you telling me I’m already down…you are telling me I need to get up off my lazy ass and do something for you, because you said so.

How do you get everyone aboard the same train?

What’s that? You don’t want everyone on the same train?

I thought you wanted to be first.

If you want to be first, that means you need everyone on the same train.

^Best soviet electronic music^

Are animals incompetent?
^Kraftwerk – Roboter 1978^

I was out front letting my youngest son’s dog get some fresh air. It’s 57°F/13°C, the sun is shining, and is generally awesome. But she refused to come back in, so I had to chase her around the front yard a bit. When I finally got her to come back towards the door so I could let her in, I reached up to open the door, and noticed there was a critter on my foot. I brought my foot up, then gently blew the winged critter off my foot, and they landed on the concrete porch.

I let the dog in, then began to retreat inwards myself, when I noticed that the ant – yes, it was a winged ant – was still sitting in the same place/had not flown off. I suddenly became worried, as the ant was sitting right in the big, fucking middle of the porch. Were anyone else to come in or out through the door, they won’t know the ant is sitting there, and would likely step on the ant. So the question becomes…

Q: What do I do?

A: Whatever I do.

I tried to give the ant a shade of encouragement to move by bending down and blowing on it, but it sensed the sudden increase in hurricane force winds, and hung on for dear life to the concrete of the porch. I wonder if there is a something to be learned there about methods we employ to get others to do what we want?

^Junkie XL — Crusher.. High quality.^

I think this is the last whatever that I’m going to write in MS WordPad. Yep…even tho I downloaded and installed OpenOffice over a month ago, I’m still using MS WordPad to write these things. WordPad really doesn’t offer much in the way of formatting: there’s no spellcheck, no fancy editing tools, and it takes me a level of two of washing this shit before I actually send it over to Roob for her to do whatever she does with it.

But I think I’m starting to feel a shade better about my formatting peccadilloes, and how better to use them to mold what I am trying to say, as I am saying it. My reason for doing this is quite simple, and that is so that I don’t go back and read something that I’m going to regret having written, and not have spent more time or formatting and editing. I mean, in life, when we say things, we don’t get second chances. You gotta say the right thing, at the right time, and you’ve got to say it right the first time, and every time, forever amen.

Practice makes perfect.

Repetition, repetition, repetition.

Practice makes perfect.

Repetition, repetition, repetition.

Practice repetition makes repetition perfect repetition.
^Morrissey – Break up the Family^

I just saw a pretty cool Tweet, that was cool, because it had leaves in it. There was a really cool star made out of sticks and twine, and I had some thoughts on that too, but what really interested me was the leaves. Dunno bout choo, but I love picking up leaves and looking at them. Well, leaves that have fallen. Leaves on the tree are best observed where they are, but I’ve been known to pick them.

Anyway, I love to look at leaves, check out the patterns, think about how they developed and why, make crazy assumptions about how these patterns suit needs in many ways, etc., etc.. But with respect to the leaves in this particular picture, what I got to thinking about was…

“how in the FUCK do those leaves look so nice?”

I can’t get a super close look at the leaves, but they certainly aren’t crushed…so how in the fuck did someone go out and collect a bunch of leaves without crushing them? OR…is that part of the ritual? Just…go out and grab a fuckton of leaves, cram em’ all into a bag, then sort the shit when you get home. Crushed ones here, uncrushed ones there.

Le YIKES!!! Sounds like a metaphor for pre-dating and post-dating romantic encounters.

^World On Fire (Junkie XL Club Mix)^

Not that you particularly care, but where my mind was buzzing around today was/is medicine.

Q: Is medical infrastructure medicine?

A: ?¿?

The only way to get everyone on board, is to cover all needs, up to and including, not needing at all. Giving your share away, because you don’t need it, but someone else does, and if they don’t now, they will later.

I wonder who that someone might be? 

Anyway, there’s been a lot of things I’ve seen lately, that would appear to have nothing at all to do with medicine/standardized medicine, but they do. Lemme see if I can find some, that way we’ve got an audit trail, and proof, and other cool shit like that.

^Infusion — Legacy (Junkie XL Remix)^

Here’s an example…

Refusal of need(s) means that the relationship is over…right? If you don’t get what you need, when you need it, DIVORCE!!!

Everything must remain the same forever, or face elimination. It’s the only way. Can’t discern and discriminate until everything is the same, which allows us to discover our differences, and eliminate them.

OK, I’ll stop trying to be clever in my digging, and put it like this: If I’m married, and looking forward to sex with my wife tonight, but that afternoon she gets hit by a car and winds up in the hospital, can I still fuck her in the hospital bed?

I mean, assuming that she still wants to fuck. Or do I need to take a rain-check? Does she need to take a rain-check? What if she is insistent that I fuck her, because she fears it may be the last chance we get to do so? Or is the hospital going to have an opinion too? Is that an additional price of medical care? Do it my way, or else?

^Savages – You’re My Chocolate^

Here’s another one…

What could some “missile alert” have to do with medical care? Welp…if a war starts, a shitload of people are going to need a fuckton of band-aids.

Who is gonna make them?

Where are they getting their supplies?

Who is going to ship them?

Who is going to apply them?

And on, and on, and on...

Supposedly, our President said something recently about “the button” now being his own personal property. Dunno how that transfer of ownership happened, but that’s what I personally took away from the “my button is bigger than his” bit, or whatever it was.

And another...

And another...

And another...

As best I can tell, all of these things hover around continuance, and weave in and out of all kinds of other applications. Dunno bout you, but to me, that says someone is doing some weaving. Who? Does that matter? Do you care that you have a blanket when you need it, or is who made it important? We want everything to stay the same, and the only way to accomplish that, is change and changes.

Makes sense.
^Le Couleur – Femme^

/begin poem

The bells…they hang silent, and scream.

But no one listens to them anymore.

/end poem

^Sub Focus – X-Ray (Metrik Remix)^

When I start seeing the same Tweets over and over, coming from different people, does that mean that I have enough friends that I can dump one in favor of the other? I mean, who needs two friends that are damn near identical? Dump one, keep the other. They both regurgitate the same bullshit, so no big loss if I lose one. Losing weight is always popular.

^Jonathan Bree – You’re So Cool^

I’m not implying that “standardized medicine” is going to start producing standardized people, but it might contribute to the production of standardized people. I guess it all depends on how we look at things, and what we want to get out of them. Things are only worth a flying fuck, when and if they put out. If they don’t? Fuck ’em.

^boy pablo – Everytime^

I had to bring the trash in. I took it out this morning, but someone forgot that today is MLK‘s birthday, so I had to bring it back in. If it sits out in the alley for the next 3 days, it’ll get torn to shreds by stray dogs, cats, squirrels, opossums, skunks, and God knows what else.

Plus, yet again, the temperature has been dropping all day, and it’s supposedly supposed to snow @ 20:00/8:00 pm tonight. It’s currently 48°F/10°C, so we’ve got a ways to go if it’s going to snow. My “news” came via Whatshername, so I just went to check the weather, and I saw nothing about snow, and it’s not supposed to get cold till tomorrow. That said, it has gotten cloudy as fuck outside, and the wind is blowing pretty good.

Definitely feels like change is changing.
^Detlef – JayDee^

/begin end

Here is where we ended this rhyme…upon this fancy dish.

The method could take some time…to feast upon this fish.

I’ll bang upon this wordy chime…something simple but cute.

Silence is the realm of the mime…so says the mute.

Something made of wheat…something filled with slime.

Cooked lovingly into a meat…and when eaten tastes sublime.

Climb upon this giving mound…climb to your summit I climb.

Howls in pain this foolish hound…my bonds downgraded to subprime.

/end end

I asked two different people for 8 words that rhymed, in 4 sets of 2 words each.

Below is what I got…

Person A: Fish – Dish, Wheat – Meat, Hound – Mound, Cute – Mute

Person B: chime, climb, rhyme, slime, time, mime, subprime, sublime

:/

There’s always a fucking smart ass 😉

Anyway, I used those 16 words, and created that nonsense above. Hence, where it ended, is actually where it began, but not really. Anyway, thanks to you ladies for playing along.

^Leftwing & Kody – What You Sayin^

It’s against my religion to ask others to assist me in any poetry writing efforts. And yet, for some reason, I asked for assistance. I guess I don’t like my religion anymore, and needed a way out. NOBODY leaves a religion on good terms…

...do they? 

Maybe that’s where a lot of this weirdness and confusion comes from. Do I really need to be in church every fucking time the doors are open? If a church closes down because I didn’t show up, maybe that church needed to close. We’ve got churches every-fucking-where here. These seminaries are pumping out clergy, year after year, and they’ve got to have somewhere to go…right? Need a flock to lead?

 Can't have shepherds without sheep. 

And supposedly, America is motherfucking STOCKED with sheep. Which…did you see that Tweet up there about increasing sales of lamb? Um…ever thought that maybe…instead of slaughtering a fuckton of sheep like your life depended on it, maybe let a cull slide here and there. Doing without on occasion, might help us better deal with what it’s like, to forget what it is like, to be fat and happy.

PLUS!!!…it’ll give some reprieves to some little lambs that might be looking for a longer-term shepherd.

^Nitrous Oxide – Orient Express^

Someone Tweeted this story…

RAF fighters intercept two Russian bombers near UK airspace

…and it got me to thinking about a brief conversation that I had with a certain someone about Twitter execs supposedly snooping on their users.

First of all, there is a line of thinking, where certain people attempt to…erm…“take their destiny into their own hands” by joining the machine that monitors. They do this, thinking that they can somehow transcend the monitors and monitoring, by joining the club. But I got a question about “ascension”, irrespective of when and how it occurs…

Q: Now what?

A: !!!

Yeah…did you remember to take a parachute with you? If so, did you pack it yourself, because just because you aren’t being monitored today, doesn’t mean you aren’t going to be monitored tomorrow.

I’m not proposing a defeatist attitude towards people taking things that don’t belong to them, nor people snooping on others just because they can. But if you took the time to watch the video above from 1969 where the people were dancing to the “Pop Corn” song, you’ll notice that their rhythm was all over the fucking place. Some fast, some slow, some trying to dance this way, others trying to dance that way…adjusting to something new. Lots of figuring out to be done there.

^Planet Jazz- Monster ??!^

Same goes for anything new I guess. Takes a while to find a rhythm. Takes a while to adjust to a rhythm. Gonna be a lot of impatient motherfuckers getting antsy. Wanting shit “RIGHT GODDAMN NOW BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!!!”, and I understand that kind of thinking, but maybe cut down on the coffee and chill dipshits. Get two shots in your Starbucks instead of four. Or hell, up it to eight.

I dunno...just...chill. 

I hate when these motherfuckers tell me I’m gonna get left behind, and then the next day they tell me the same bullshit. Welp, if I got left behind, how in the fuck are we having this conversation? Anyone that tells me “I’m gonna get left” is prolly angling me. Or did I just assume your intentions?

^Sven Väth & Barbarella – My Name Is Barbarella^

There are some days that I just want to crawl under a rock and die. But I’ve been here before, and I survived it then, so why wouldn’t I survive it now? Just because I’m 50 years old and completely worthless, welp, that inspires me to keep moving. Seeing things like that ant, holding on for dear life, inspires me. Hang on while the storm blows, and move the best you can, when you can, as the storm relents.

I mean, have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, nature sometimes needs us to hunker down for a bit? Sit tight. If you’ve not considered that, just keep in mind that we sleep. So maybe not just and only storms sometimes do the trick with respect to getting us to chill at bit.

^Sven Väth – Extra welt / Zu Fuss^

/begin poem

A quick spin round, and to, is the thing now to do.

Outside, real quick, to check on this snow, the news is thick.

brb

Back, not a goddamn thing, not a goddamn flake, not one flake to see, except…me.

‘Tis cold and cloudy, no snow, plenty of wind, I’m pouty.

But not sad, not mad, not glad, not yet, no snow I’d bet.

But why bet on the weather, it’s always coming together, just like laces in a shoe.

And not to be too bold, but warm or cold, I’d like to curl up with you.

/end poem

Definitely colder outside, but the air has a warm feeling to it. The air is heavy. Feels heavy.

Weird.
^Mark Jenkyns – Sirens Feat. Mizbee (Original Mix)^

Neuronal Circuits Reportedly Mapped More Comprehensively Than Ever Before

This is interesting, but the story goes from…

“they have devised a novel method that maps electrical circuits in the brain”

to…

“enabled them to map out all 250 cells that make up a microcircuit in part of a mouse brain that processes smell”

…pretty quickly.

From "Brain" to "Mouse Brain" pretty fucking fast. 

The fact they’re tinkering in areas that process smell is pretty fucking impressive, but to what end? It seems there are elements that are wanting to ban anything and everything that supposedly makes us sick. So…what’s the reason for research like this?

Once alcohol and cigarettes are gone, and plants are completely under the control of corporations and/or government, freewill can be tamed, and there’ll be nothing left for anyone to do…right? Or am I being to shallow and not looking at the greater picture and the big good.

That said, the article only mentions the word “mouse” once, “mice” not at all, and “brain” ten times. Let’s check out “the big study” and see where that leads us.

Architecture of a mammalian glomerular domain revealed by novel volume electroporation using nanoengineered microelectrodes

Glomerulus (Kidney)

Bowman’s Capsule

I knew it. Conspiracy.

Mystery = SOLVED!!! Next!
^Franky Rizardo – Killa Bees (Original Mix) [Sola]^

However, identifying the totality of cells belonging to such neuronal modules, the “inputs” and “outputs,” remains a major challenge.

That’s from the “Neuronal Circuits” article above, but I’m still perplexed about the “I/O” nature of thinking in science. I mean, what if information processing takes a fuckton longer than you think it does? Something unique to me, may not be unique to you, so to say something always processes information in the same way(s) seems…foolhardy. Not to mention that the nature of your “I/O” thinking is prolly backwards to begin with. Meaning, you’ve not stop to consider that “I/O” is a simultaneous process that happens at the same time. Perhaps even at the same time, at the same point, and happens multiple times. Like a sequence.

EX: In order to get in, and I mean in, and only in, you need a sequence of registers that simultaneously register: I, O, O, I, I, O, O, I, I, I, O.

Yeah rly. 

I’m suggesting that a sequence of “In, Out, Out, In, In, Out, Out, In, In, In, Out” may be required just to get in. There’s prolly going to be some embedded encoding within the “IN” key that allows the potential, for an “OUT” key to be generated, depending on the information that follows the “IN” key.

Am I really suggesting that this I/O sequencing into the brain is going to be that complex? Nope. It’s not going to be that easy. I’m suggesting that it’s going to be a fuckton more complex than that.

^Eli Brown – Get Down^

Thinking like that shouldn’t be that much of a stretch. We are talking about trapping here, information processing and retention, data preservation. That means there are going to be FUCKTONS of traps preventing you from getting in, and perhaps even allowing you to get in. Getting out is another matter entirely. I mean, DNA is pretty complex…right?

If the model of tumblers that I see in my head is even partially correct with respect to how information is processed and potentially stored within the body. Um…you better get out your stopwatches and start thinking about time, times, and a fuckton of time and times, then you better start thinking about friction, atrophy, decay, motion, what constitutes energy over time…and a fuckton of other things. I guess I’m thinking about things like that, because “In, Out, Out, In, In, Out, Out, In, In, In, Out” may get you in today, but tomorrow may require “In, In, In, In, In, Out, In, In, In, In, In”.

How long are you willing to monitor this shit? Yeah…why not hook this shit up to your own brain, then you monitor yourself and let others monitor you for the rest of your life. We’ll keep you posted on how it all turns out. Srsly…we will. You’re in good hands. I’ve practiced on thousands of grapefruits.

^CamelPhat – Drop It^

Lemme explain why I’m thinking in those lines, assuming that I possess the ability to do so.

We are talking about information…correct? Are you going to use the first key that works? Welp, what if that key, sends all information to one place, and one place only?

Yeah...storage. 

There’s GOT to be more to the routing system than just and only one key. What happens when you send a message, but the pathway is already occupied, and the message cannot be sent in totality? Are you prepared with how to deal with “packet loss” and the like? I mean…doesn’t the brain supposedly work differently/better in the mornings for certain things, and differently/worse in the evenings for those same things? Let’s say that the following is true…

Key 1: “In, Out, Out, In, In, Out, Out, In, In, In, Out”

Key 2: “In, In, In, In, In, Out, In, In, In, In, In”

Key 3: “iN, oUT, oUT, iN, iN, oUT, oUT, iN, iN, iN, oUT”

Key 4: “nI, nI, nI, nI, nI, tuO, nI, nI, nI, nI, nI”

Let’s say that applying those four keys, in sequence, will get you in, through, and back out, without making a single change to anything. Basically, a ping, and a response acknowledging that your sequence was correct, and that the system recognized/recognizes that you are trying to gain access, do nothing except gain access, get through, and return. This response is neither friendly, nor unfriendly. Basically just a response of “I heard you”.

Q: How are you going to interpret that?

A: ?!¿?!¿!!!

Might wanna give it some thought. “Space” and “messages from space” are prolly not just and only going to come from one place or another. Might wanna give that some thought as well. I’m sure as shit chewing on it.

^Charles Pierre – Directions (Original Mix)^

Something else to consider…

I am a human.

To say that I’ve no knowledge of my own makeup is…

shortsighted.

I have knowledge of self.

Some anyway 😉

I am a someone, (Individual Human)

that is part of a group, (Humans)

that is also part of a group, (Life)

and this group of groups contains unlimited groups (Lives).

So yeah…to say that it’s impossible for me to know things about myself, that are more “scientific” in nature, while possessing none of the “skill and knowledge” that these scientific modalities create? That it’s impossible for me to know things about myself, because I possess none of the machinery… None of the training… none of the skills… none of the experience… none of the peer support…and on and on?

Welp...you'd be right about that.

Within the scope of the entirety of things, not sure what that means tho.

/me shrugs
^The Crystal Method – Name of the Game (Hybrid’s Blackout in LA Mix)^

cYacFa

^Pleasurekraft & Green Velvet – Skeleton Key (Format B Remix)^

*******

*/puffs… You got here before me, Clicky…/pats snout… *

Sew there you have it, Dear Reader – a poetic missive shambles inspired by thoughts on medicine…

medicine (n.)

c. 1200, “medical treatment, cure, remedy,” also used figuratively, of spiritual remedies, from Old French medecine (Modern French médicine) “medicine, art of healing, cure, treatment, potion,” from Latin medicina “the healing art, medicine; a remedy,” also used figuratively, perhaps originally ars medicina “the medical art,” from fem. of medicinus (adj.) “of a doctor,” from medicus “a physician” (from PIE root *med- “take appropriate measures”); though OED finds evidence for this is wanting. Meaning “a medicinal potion or plaster” in English is mid-14c.

To take (one’s) medicine “submit to something disagreeable” is first recorded 1865. North American Indian medicine-man “shaman” is first attested 1801, from American Indian adoption of the word medicine in sense of “magical influence.” The U.S.-Canadian boundary they called Medicine Line (first attested 1910), because it conferred a kind of magic protection: punishment for crimes committed on one side of it could be avoided by crossing over to the other. Medicine show “traveling show meant to attract a crowd so patent medicine can be sold to them” is American English, 1938. Medicine ball “stuffed leather ball used for exercise” is from 1889.

It is called a “medicine ball” and it got that title from Prof. Roberts, now of Springfield, whose fame is widespread, and whose bright and peculiar dictionary of terms for his prescription department in physical culture is taught in every first-class conducted Y.M.C.A. gymnasium in America. Prof. Roberts calls it a “medicine ball” because playful exercise with it invigorates the body, promotes digestion, and restores and preserves one’s health. [“Scientific American Supplement,” March 16, 1889]

I’m off now to spend some time with Thoughtful Man, and Clicky is…

*Charming!*

… Already out of here apparently. Dear Reader… Have a Song 😀

Miss Chief Maker

Dear Reader, the wait is over…

bookcovertreeskull

… the third volume of the Underdog Anthology is now available to buy!

As well as having a Harry and the FAKkers story included, I also had the very great pleasure of writing the Afterword again. This involves mangling a poem of great repute, to pass comment on modern political climes. And as this is a Halloween themed book, really there was only one choice of poet and one poem to tackle…

bronze-plaque-of-new-colossus

*Eww, Clicky! Lazarus rose from the dead, but that’s a completely different story…*

So, for your pleasure, and in the hopes that it might tempt you to buy the book (‘cos there are some absolutely corking stories contained within), please find below, ‘The Nuke Allows US‘ by Roo B. Doo, with illustrative illustration by H.K. Hillman…

The Nuke Allows US
There's nothing quite like America's aim,
With squabbling pols and a media grand;
Hollywood productions meticulously planned
A mighty mushroom cloud, a torch whose flame
Issues irradiation, and its name
Mother of All Wars. From the blackened land
Glows world-wide wonder; hegemony command
The Cold War winner of that global game.
“Keep in our good books now!” cries Liberty
With weighty lips. “Give us your money, your ore,
Your oils and gases (excludes banking fee),
The wealth contained in your burgeoning store.
Send all these and receive Democracy!”
*.../Lifts up arm, hand drops MIC to the floor...*

The Nuke Allows US

Now, as an extra special treat for all you synchromystics and synchnauts out there, here is a short talk from John Lamb Lash that you may find of interest. Eye gno I.D.ed… 😉

Until next time, Dear Reader… Have a Song ❤

*******

*/cough…*

*thank you, Clicky…*

Missive From ‘Merica: No.85 Part 1 – Poetry in Motion

Dear Reader, The Okie Devil of Text Us has sent through another missive – the 85th – and at 10 pages, it is his longest yet…

… Fortunately I have time at my disposal today and tomorrow, so I shall split it…

*Ha! That’s right, Clicky… “Size of an elephant!”…*

… And the first part is reproduced for your enjoyment, below… ❤

*******

I have awoken from a recent slumber

My first instinct?

To bang out this number

Acerbic dreams of wafting arrows

Where did their arcing flights end?

Embedded in tissues, bones and their marrows

We interrupt this system for an important bulletin…

Pull the arrow out, put a bullet in

I have awoken from a recent slumber

My first instinct?

To bang out this number

Acerbic dreams of wafting arrows

Where did their arcing flights end?

Before they’ve even started

Their arcing points, and points of origin?

Replaced by tools that kill before the killing can begin

Just like the rest

No better, no best

Just ends, just endings

No wicked, no rest

 

I have awoken from a recent slumber

My first instinct?

To bang out this number

The number this is…

Is which number is this

Fret not dear Limeys…

I’m not taking the piss

A-T-5 or 8-E-5 or Ate Tea Fyve

Or whatever, or whatever, and all that jive

Still here, still alive

I have awoken from a recent slumber

My first instinct?

To bang out this number

One of many, just like the others

Freshly squeezed from something brewed

Under now kicked off covers.

I have awoken from a recent slumber

My first instinct?

To bang out this number

The structure has crumbled

Has fallen, and falls

Was its source from where stumbled?

Or where ham-handed footing landed?

Wounds salted and sanded

“Perhaps humbled?”…the Earth grumbled.

“Your knee hurt my face, when you landed in that place!”

…says she to me.

I have awoken from a recent slumber

My first instinct?

To bang out this number

Apologies and with love…

Sincerely,

A Snappling, Crackling, Popping, Cranky, Clanky, Tumbler In The Wheel Of Time
^Groove Armada – At The River^

*******

Doo come back later for more of Cade’s latest missive, Dear Reader and… Have a Song… 😉

 

A Dolphin Who?

*Thank you, Clicky…*

*Quite the intronaut, Clicky… not sure about the worms…*

So Dear Reader, in ‘Hang on a Mo (updated)‘, I mentioned that I’d written the Afterword for the new Underdog Anthology

The book is a tasty Easter treat…

*Chocked with stories, not dipped in chocolate, Clicky… You wouldn’t be able to read the words…*

It was surprisingly difficult to find a poem to mutilate this time round. Carroll and Poe had already been abused by Leggy in his previous short story collections…

*The Cleggy and the Cameroid, yes…*

*… And The Gorgon…*

When Legs asked me to pen the Afterword for the first Underdog Anthology, it was quite easy to choose, a) literary giant (duh, Shake Sphere) and b) political subject matter (Brexit, duh da)…

*Also Sonnet 6+6+6 is fairly short, Clicky…*

There are lots of great poets and poems out there, and no end of useless politicians and their fuckwittery to choose from this time… But what to choose, who to choose? I tell you, Dear Reader, I was stumped…*/scratches head…*

Enter Canada

*For fucks sake, Clicky! Canadians wouldn’t even be able to criticize the driving…*

O Canada” (French: Ô Canada) is the national anthem of Canada. The song was originally commissioned by Lieutenant Governor of Quebec Théodore Robitaille for the 1880 Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day ceremony; Calixa Lavallée composed the music, after which, words were written by the poet and judge Sir Adolphe-Basile Routhier. The lyrics were originally in French; an English version was created in 1906.

There, a poet, described as such by Wiki… DolphinBasilRuthier... So here is the Afterword poem from Anthology 2, with actions… Then, Dear Reader, have a Song… And don’t forget to buy the book(s)… Available in paperback if you feel the need to burn something after reading 😉

:O Canada! 🤦

:O Canada! 🤦
New home of the Muhammad band!
Politicians love the Islamist sons’ command
Who’s cowering hearts we see compromise
No more to stand strong and free!
On slopes you slide
Oi Canada, we facepalm for thee
God save us from your quisling glee! 🤦
Oy Canada, get off your bended knee 🤦🤦
Oh Canada, get off your bended knee 🤦🤦🤦

Ping Pong Piddle Pogo

A number of things in the last 24 hours have led me to consider writing a post about Peter Sellers

*No Clicky, nothing to do with Kubrick…*

I have posted about Peter Sellers before, at Sync Miss For Him

seller-door-1

*Well, I hope Dear Reader takes a look and a loiter, Clicky… It’s a bit like being handed somebody’s holiday snaps, though – it’s hard to enthuse unless you’re really interested or were actually there*

But yesterday evening, Red Frank posted ‘Love Hurts‘ at MEROVEE and included the Pink Pan-ther…

red-frank-posts-pink-panther

*Kardashian? Hmm…*

Meanwhile I was having a conversation with Cade about books and poetry and ‘overt lurking‘…

seller-door-2

Plus Hugo was in a peculiar mood…

hugo-and-roob-dm-convo

And then today, in conversation with Legs about his moving home…

roob-and-legs-dm-convo-1

*Okay, maybe a little bit to do with Kubrick, Clicky… but it was more about the comment Cade left at Leggy’s place…*

roob-and-legs-dm-convo-2

cades-poem-at-ubu

*Jcrashinthecar…dashian, Clicky? …/rolls eyes…*

But it continued…

seller-door-3

roob-and-legs-dm-convo-3

*A PA, Clicky? …/holds up hands…*

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In Internet culture, a lurker is typically a member of an online community or PLN who observes, but does not actively participate.

*******

Obituary dated 3rd of October…

obituary-for-hermione-harvey

Have a Song…

Dreamy Sleepy Nighty Snoozy Snooze

LAST TIME AT THE LOL
CLICKY: Simply click the pix

Dear Reader – First the bad snooze… Thoughtful Man remains a resident of ICU and he’s mostly sedated…

IMG_1644

CLICKY: And dream roaming?

*Probably, Clicky… /wan smile… Although when it comes to the art of sleeping, Popstar really is in a class of her own… /rolls eyes*

The good snooze is that the swelling is going down, so he is off the ventilator and starting to surface. Though the bad snooze is he suffered some delirium… flailing about, trying to pull out tubes…

Protective Mitt
CLICKY: Use gloves?

*Don mitts? Yes but it took three of them to do it. Well, as you know, Click, he’s a big man*

Still the good snooze was that yesterday he was much calmer and medics were able to remove the protection from his hands. Now we’re waiting for the results of today’s scan…

*Not sure about the wolves, there, Clicky – the nursing staff have been superb… But the waiting… /sigh…*

Today I watched a film that Thoughtful Man had gotten for me before he was taken ill.

‘In Akron, Ohio, 24-year-old Joy and her five-year-old son Jack live in a squalid shed they call Room. They share a bed, toilet, bathtub, television, and rudimentary kitchen; the only window is a skylight. They are captives of a man they call Old Nick, Jack’s biological father, who abducted Joy seven years prior, and routinely rapes her while Jack sleeps in the closet. She tries to stay optimistic for her son, but is suffering malnutrition and is sometimes overcome with depression. She allows Jack to believe that only Room and its contents are “real,” and that the rest of the world exists only on television.’

*******

To be continued in a post yet to be named. Sew I will finish this one now with a Poe-M

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

 

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
… and a Song 😉