…be-jingoed, scrawling redintheface those hasty markers, clamping down on the faces of …
‘oh where’d that come from?’
‘that raving brain shiver?’
‘could it be that all the neurons are giving up the ghost?’
not so fast, cornswallerer! grinning lotharios are racing the fast-track to organelles. or candied pastilles. (who knows what the pastilles are laced with? laudanum, arsenic, ambutynol, oblivon, or any number of pharmaceutickals meant to make a sterling prophet in spite of the inefficacy…) watch that hunched lothario: watch his hand creeping; watch his loud clockwrist slicing time, bleeding time all over the divan or crocheted piano cushion or the scratchy woollen jumper…; watch his argyled legs crossing, crisscrossing; watch the plainted hope dangling out the window, fray away…
don’t be holding on to that hope when it finally inters itself in a musty heap upon the ground far far far below there, at the joinxture of earth and wall. heard of that rapunzel? she’s a wicketysnicket for ya. bear remembering all the nasty bits left out of the 20th c vers. or that coalella and her sisters slicing off their feets (see the above clockslicing time) in time to see all their hopes… .etc. etc.
where in this tired world are the … see?
this “nothingnewunderthesun” world…
this repackaging of old things over and over and over. does some new repackaging remake an old thing? oh, for the days when shells hid in crockpots and the stewpit denounced the future lads for their fathers-come-a-calling. fathers: toss your sons away! for they wll surely dethrone you!
has that (will that ever) prophecy change?
don’t mind this caterwallerer spinning in the corner. he’s clearly lost his way.