Saturday, 24 November 2012


I give you platitudes for the multitudes whose attitudes are such that they disdain those dudes who've never been prudes those artists and poets and makars and mummers who've never known beatitudes from priests and preachers with rectitude who spawned their broods of killers in hoods despite their sponsoring of works of art with the pulchritude of many nudes in misty early morning woods in absurdly garish posturing moods gawping and gaping like serenely vacant outer shells of inner hells where freedom to think has become an inevitable ineptitude a certitude of inexactitude a morally absurd decrepitude that's persisted for an infinitude despite the overwhelming inquietude of a minority of enlightened fools who've been granted the latitude to think outside the paradigm and foreverly strive against those who sit at altitudes so high and mighty and readily scorn in casual promptitude the multitudes who absorb with fervent aptitude all platitudes well there's gratitude for ye.

[For Kellie Elmore's Free Word Friday blog, which you can find here.]

Friday, 9 November 2012

Funny how you can live your whole life believing a lie

Who was it that said we believe what we want to believe Demosthenes I believe but I might be mistaken although I’m surely not lying because I gave a rider to the statement which isn’t what you normally get with lies which must mean there are clues to when lies are being told quite apart from the James Bondish ideas of lie detectors and such like the best lie detector I ever knew was my wife but then again I’m no great shakes at telling porkies downright fables or even white lies never have been must’ve been my Christian upbringing God will know as he’s omnipresent omnipotent ubiquitous they say so why’d I have to go to confession then Ma I asked one day now that could be a lie depending on my age at the time you know but anyhow it’s still a good question maybe it was just to satisfy the prurient curiosity of the Priest ‘cos you know what Priests are like don’t you nothing better to do than drag out all of our little secrets designed to make us feel guilty well I tell you I didn’t feel guilty at the time and nor did she and come to think of it I’m certainly not guilty now apart from being guilty of telling the odd whopper mind but just for fun a recreational activity you understand unlike the lies our politicians tell on a daily basis or is that just being economical with the truth is that a lie or the absence of a lie which must therefore be the same as the absence of truth I’d like a little more truth around here that’s for sure but then perhaps life would be too boring and writers of stories and tales and scripts and plays would soon run out of material don’t you think I’m sure you agree take your Napoleon for example he told the French they were the master race just like Hister or whatever Nostradamus called him and both lied but both gave it a go didn’t they and plenty more since and beforehand too like maybe the Trojans and the bloody Normans and maybe they were masters for a while but all things come to pass and that’s the end of that so it goes as Kurt used to say but it doesn’t go really it comes around after it goes around and there’s one lie that’s been going around for centuries based on a second coming around but I wouldn’t wait up for that if I were you there’s been plenty of false dawns on that score and a couple even this year so far and one more to come if you subscribe to that Mayan calendar bollocks so yeah it’s not even a case of believing it if I see it that’s just a figure of speech and if anyone really believes all that bullshit they deserve to become a figure of fun it’s funny how some folks can live their whole lives believing a lie but it’s only because they believe what they want to believe.

For Kellie Elmore's Free Word Friday; here's the link.

Friday, 2 November 2012

Scare me silly...

Soon soon you will be gone vanished from view it won’t take long not as long as it takes for those holly and ivy creepers to spread their ever enclosing claustrophobically embracing growth over your exterior your upright surfaces your walls and roofs your balconies and balustrades until the original you the youthful you the built in 1836 you the pillars of you are consumed in green dark and mysterious dusty and serious alive and delirious encroaching enmity for no-one bothered to halt its advance on your behalf no-one seems or seemed to care as your seams are breached and other parts reached like a rude unwelcome infringing guest who turns out to be a predatory pest and what’s the name for a rapist of dwellings anyway maybe that’s a dwellist not a duellist that’s for sure although there’s something afoot that smacks of that maybe its the spectral shroud that lurks about the feet of your whitewashed walls that in themselves look like petticoats dragged in the rain groping for a feeling a reason to be stealing in or around or away looking for a way in perhaps no doubt wailing crying dead or just dying coupled with the spirit of the trees that have joined in the plot to obscure your lot the once tall cousins of the holly and the ivy in league with your foes the thorns of the rose who’ve bent ‘cross the road to whisper and scheme conspire and connive combine and thrive at your expense but send you no bill just make their withdrawals on your account while you can’t even shout for help if you could for there’s no-one to hear there’s nobody near and it looks like Ent’s feet the roots and the weeds will wring you to death and take your last breath like the war took the fools who courted in stealth their end in the earth soon so soon…  

(For Kellie Elmore's Free Write Friday; here's the link.)