Ten thousand crushed cataclysmic catacombs
I thought you had wallpaper paste in your hair
It was a drowned apocalypso downed your daisies at dawn anti-cymex egg-smeller!!
It was you megalithic monolithic van der Graff
A moron of deadly intent
Speculating on your mentality and mashing your marrows in a
Sententious splash of jelly-Jah-Wobble Wombling Gods
O’er the green fields of ‘cady we trashed our protest shoes
In muddy torrents that ran down our arms
Like children from a forgotten dream
Involving snow, salt and chickens
With the occasional rainbow oxbow lake lady sword python starfish swooning heron dialectic thrown in for good measure!!!
It was a trout of esteemed boot-ness
Cruising o’er the hazy hapexamendios expetered melatricious mendacious
Flanging crosshairs in existenial crisis
Punching up the vixen spikenard that you tried to make your tea with…?
Did you think your leg was that long??? Really??!!?!??!
I find that hard to believe- you only chased your tail in an angry fit trying to eat whilst doing a tuppence
Was this a hobbit that pulled your leg so you thought it was so long?
A flight that sucked the pith out until you drowned in an effluviam of your own boredom?
A leach vampire skate that spun you in webs of delight until you screamed “Down Shep!”
Muppets that ate your bread and wished you dead, fighting over a wooden spoon caste crazily into the ground…
A sound…
All is silent, all is still, you’ll hang from the sill if you forget to take your pill…
Now no random reflexes taint the day, a neoplasm of grinding sensuousness multiplexes drama Queens
Until they rake at the air, their hair hanging in garish long tendrils like wave-washed sea-weed lying in puddles
Of bloody martyres crying the doom of Gods creation, lying at the Saints until they
Pull their hats tight down over their ears, cursing, again, out of breath
Heart belying the big lie, pounding, ears burning, cursing again, again, again,
Echoes down all time and is lying. blind. In corporeal decay, generals doom
Field-Marshall’s bane, weaving the wet ether vain over the steeples and the people
In their little houses wondering where and when it’s all going to end
Creeping up the pulpit, damning the doomsayers, cruising in crushed velvet, clawing back the raked pavings
Stabs at me, wonton, crawling with menace, seeks a new spoon to reflect the doom, bygone skies of time
Flown o’er the dome of bespoke matching crutches, crunching snail shells as it projects…
Carried cries afar, afield, mocked monkeyed in a longing whoop.
Crajan of Jibe-boa
Mansfield of Cranked Ju-Jube
Fargoe of Franz Blanket
…and last but not least, Joe of Poe’s Junket
All that lazy awed crue
Shanked in the trinket, bumped in the bumpkin,
Screwed and jived, gyre-ing and spiralling in misfits misanthropic dew two
Amber, scrawling across the pagination
Juiced and crewed, crowed and crafted, mafted and narked, and finally awkwarded and awarded
Market and bespeckled
All doves flown, all asps in sparta bedecked and bejewelled
A fantasy of hazy, grace and gazey mazey racist shelled protest cranked hanging
Gimme that aspartane!
You’re too earthy to be neat, you’re too nice to be gentle
…and you’ve spent all the rent and now stand, aghast a spectacle up on the table
A spectre’s retreat, final resting place of the space palace, crested on the downside of Gentlemans
Fast, fast, bust a copper’s ass, do it your down-time blast the strimmers crash them into splinters
Smithereens the peening, only caught one rivet, but got two “down the hatch”
This bastards got my number
He’s watching me, watching the signs, speeding to the moon over my doom
I’m not happy, and I’m not going away, so say “-”
Dash it dash you dash the past dash the future, we’re all going away down trellises of proportion
Coursing scorching our planet in our wake
The hunter the herder the nomad caught in sacred abandon meshing the superior speciosa
Necking the nectar, bets the best.
Said, take me away I’ve had my day, wonders and the glom
From Apalacia to Eurasia, Nekkum-Nebrak hibiscus
Dongonwana to what’s that other one?
Caught, Too Far, flushed in a dell span strath break
That scenery, that land
Near but far I can almost smell
Atlas-cedar the scented willow
Widow wodin remember the great one
Overcome, breaks down, clown, you lose.
Chose, begin again, makeshift and tangle
Mangle wurzle, gurneys
Tourneys knights spangled grew watsits made chalice
Pretended ended



Copyright © Christopher J. Hudson 2011