Monday, 10 September 2012

Enjoyced: a Wake in Progress (pop: 1380)

darkly night whispers

darkly stout knightfalls

and the settling sunbeats downdawn

 question . . . ?

where shall   the fin agin wake . . . ?

if not in the liffesy

geniuess gottes 

of windstained glowed 

cathedral town

where adolfsadam never dropped 

his coastal boomshells

to sore impress the golden danzlinglady eva
in the dreamhouse of his gaaden 

splish splash splosh clunch!?

there ain't much room in a mushroom cloud 
an' there ain't much time for vanity

there ain't no future 
in future stocks 

so pull up your stocks 
and open seized locks 

ship on 
or ship out 

the dolphin class can crisp your ass

u-canboot your last sardine

an das

as thee shell see . . .

when whee! shell doubtless sea

shed the load

ah men!


For it is written in geniusses 9/11

I establish my covenant with you: Never again will all life be cut off by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth

sad music becomes our plaintiff
for now he stands on ash and dust
though he ruled a world one time and smiled in similes of gold and purple and green and brown and is a strange and innocent dreamer once too proud of his old getout clothes when his mourning brightened our sky - gott will judge us! . . . and in his own time

did the earthfor give him? was it inn his pewter to do so?

we tremble with grief for our saviour in a void devoid . . . we say we will weep for the saviour when the last bell tolls in the dissonance but when the winged shadow comes over the ground our last breath will be as a cry

why does the pure fool not confess members and laydies of the juwellry, his blood is the prize we all have to play, why does he mind? is he too proud - our rigour is just - it's as clear as the moon and the sun - we have his address - the wise may read of it in a book

a shadow of another self
or one of them if he hath more

tonight he dreams
and takes him for another self

as before
the light
he casts
two shadows

and the other guides him

or is it three . . . ?

when he sleeps it's a restless sleep
like the sleep of a king in a crypt

yet see how he weeps

but why does he weep . . . ?

he weeps when he wakes

- The jewleery goes out and is prmptly back - All stand in caught  - We have verdicated! 


ACHTUNG! Be uprising in court.  Enter from L. his Woesheep Adolpuhs Pilartus.

Mumblers and ladlers of the jawroly have you now bleached a verdict on which you are all agleed?


9 . . . ?

Begging your worsnip's patrone we meant to say did he take the oath?

That fool failed to form the great oaf as I now have it before me.

And did your warshleep then perchance move to water boarding?

Mit shleep deprivation it was doubly endcoupled.

As an aside - U-can boat your life-vest we don't take noah for an answer.

Many more questings foreman of the twelve?

What did he claim for his true ruleregion?

Thirst he makes know reply and then he owns it's all the strain to hymn.

Let us pay:

Our Father
Rich art in heaven, allowed
Be thy game
In earth as it is


Geddon with it!

Schnapps out of it!

This coat now adjourns. The chewery must chewover the new fax.

All rise.

Excunt R. the jugged.


McDolphin Class U-Boots


Buy one and get one free. So he did.

Up periscope!

Somewhere in the 7 seas.

Fin's waving goodboy to the World and his dog.

He can make pigs mad. The swine!

He once stole a donkey. They say he only burrowed it. And it was only an ass.

Geusts golt dlunk on walter! U coudln't tell the diff. It was his first wounder. One was jugde, one was a preist, one was a birde, one was goorm;  rear ole times they had in doze daze.

Target off the starboard bow!

Oder izit port?

But where, but where?

It's over. There!

And then he read from his father's tome (amended):

He Who Himself begot, middler the Holy Ghost, and Himself sent himself, Agenbuyer, between himself and others, Who, put upon by his fiends, stripped and whipped, was nailed like bat to barn door, starved on crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven and there these twenty hundred years sitteth on the right hand of His Own Self but yet shall come in the latter day to doom the quick and dead when all the quick shall be dead already.


Into the depths we samehowth plunged, torpedoes armed and ready, missiles launched in time for lunch, the heavens brightening o'er the bay where a muchroomed stream of saltysongsters bubbled briefly into view and flew themselves away as fast if not faster as Heroshema carts 'n' dogs and 'osses did at breakfast time that day when His Own Self wasn't looking.

But where? O where? O'Fin o where?

And why? The stilled small voiced. The still small voiced. The still small voice.

The small voice still.

Fin smiled to Himself. To His Own Self.

Then he sat on his hand.

Did he make no reply?

U-can boat say it.





  1. This reminds me so much of something Gwil but sadly I cannot think what it is - but I do agree with the sentiments. Look forward to the continuation.

  2. Hi Pat, all will be revealed ;)!


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