DO YOU EVER SEE SOMETHING SO POORLY WRITTEN THAT YOU ACTUALLY REWRITE IT IN YOUR HEAD AS YOU’RE READING ALONG
Yes. For example, there should be a question mark there. And what’s with the all caps for goodness’ sake? I don’t need you to shout ideas into my brain; just explain calmly and I’ll understand.
So I bought an eighth and hit the gleaming path to Bethlehem, or my Bethlehem anyway. I was born in a shack already fully grown. My mother may have been a lamb and my father a wolf, but I have none of their qualities save for her paranoiac streak and his baldness. I am not bald yet, but I will be. I will be.
When I wake and it is Sunday, I can actually feel genius sparking up in my veins. The bright morning haze is just a tool to me, something to make something of. And that’s the first and last thing you ought to know about me: I do not care about life, I am only playing. I have, in my.time, been addicted to: tobacco, alcohol, pornography, gambling. I am so unconcerned with health or sex or money. I am too aware that.nothing means anything, so I play with it all. I gamble my money away because a free spirit doesn’t need money, and it’s funny anyway. When I buy a scratchcard or masturbate to absurd images, I am saying to myself and to the world: isn’t it a giggle, pretending that anything matters?
So now you know me. All literature has character. Plot is less important, so I won’t give you one here, except to say that one day I bought an eighth and set off for my birthplace, and instantaenously arrived.
It once was that only a poem would do;
that if I had to work through, I worked
through. That as long as lines were split,
enjambment carrying what should end
through to the next, then reason could
shine anew. That if the title and the form
were right, all was right with you. That
only halves for the end-rhyme would do,
but I had taxed it with internals to
make do with what little I had with
which to make do. Adorn some colour
and the thing would shine and that
would be the final line. But there’s
a postscript too: every word is bruised,
the margin’s fooled a few away
into the blue
The air is an electromagnet and is suspended through the clever deployment of infinite super conductors called breaths.
My flair is feather like the weather
of your hair, is skin, and
akin to this is home home home
throw me a bone
After weeks of olive oil skies, the rain comes in undecided bursts. My mind is on every open window in the country.
The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria and have therefore raised their security level from “Miffed” to “Peeved.” Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to “Irritated” or even “A Bit Cross.” The English have not been “A Bit Cross” since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from “Tiresome” to “A Bloody Nuisance.” The last time the British issued a “Bloody Nuisance” warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.
The Scots have raised their threat level from “Pissed Off” to “Let’s get the Bastards.” They don’t have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.
The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from “Run” to “Hide.” The only two higher levels in France are “Collaborate” and “Surrender.” The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France ‘s white flag factory, effectively paralysing the country’s military capability.
Italy has increased the alert level from “Shout Loudly and Excitedly” to “Elaborate Military Posturing.” Two more levels remain: “Ineffective Combat Operations” and “Change Sides.”
The Germans have increased their alert state from “Disdainful Arrogance” to “Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs.” They also have two higher levels: “Invade a Neighbour” and “Lose.”
Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.
The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.
Australia, meanwhile, has raised its security level from “No worries” to “She’ll be alright, Mate.” Two more escalation levels remain: “Crikey! I think we’ll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!” and “The barbie is cancelled.” So far no situation has ever warranted use of the last final escalation level.
I wake up at 4:10 am and start work at 5:30. I have a numbness in my belly.
Love is accidentally-on-purpose waking her up at 4:20.