Tuesday, August 19, 2008

the apprentice was bound to learn

the overcurious shrink, mothballed in dialect, stipulated that, if left alone, winking would fluster and dwindle, it was a case study undeniably rich in innuendo

for light relief he employed a splinter group, in an array of skimpy theories, to challenge all rocking horses to free-wheeling accomplishments, it turned into a version of mumbo versus jumbo

but whilst undeterred in his knees-up there came news of a gamble he could not resist

let’s say it was a riddle without doubt

so our shrink sent his apprentice, in ultramarine spectacles, to bet on the laughing stock

on his return he coughed up a bulldozer and could no longer contain his levelling qualities

Friday, August 01, 2008

bowling hosannahs at the pessimist

I gave my leapfrog away
amidst an overindulgence of infiltration
quaffing the cud (a picked over vintage)
before flying over yet another baptism
as I worm my way between ciao and ta-ta
in this bumper to bumper bearing
yet my line of sight starts with misdirection and reverts

in submitting to stepping-in
a white flag disarmed,
neutrality at war with the easy-going hatchet
that co-exists alongside most skirmishes
a jabbing avoidance in the ribs, when it’s not free-for-all
can I grapple with self-defence, at the height of assistance?
let’s call it sabotage of my lesser known half-measures

rusting amateur fault lines
easing haste into the next respite

with every sprawl of disused activity
there comes another set of heavy lids
staring into the light of least resistance
for some polished reflection on bombardments
glistening for the stone-deaf
as if there is something always unseen
with consent from the turnkey

yet on the lookout for strings for my puppet
I kept bumping into the downtrodden

thriving on the eviction of all entanglements
ditch the hired derelict
not out of disinterest so much as
having nothing to gain from self-preservation
as merely a hobby
more the improbability of debauchery
a craze for temperance but taking high living to the word

forgiving the mystique that surrounds being ‘out of sorts’
an affront to the hand that shakes
slapping no backs,
embracing cold shoulders
on visiting terms with an aficionado of quietude
still kowtowing to false impressions

faking almost everything
kidding wishful thinking into concocting mirage after mirage
a pushover for disappearance
bunking off from the animated voice-under
a distillation of a vanishing point
fanning those memories that cut to the quick
of any counterattack
having been there too long for consolation

under a smokescreen that glosses over this spur,
there lurks a special case straightening out

jottings strung with nicknames
unadorned with hesitation and offset with sketchbook pathologies,

no standing ovation begrudged the new leaf as it turned

no rituals, just diplomatic well-wishing for the betterment of the under-wing

the other extreme, a variation on beyond, leaving behind additives to carry over unknown fusions that reassemble smithereens for the sake of world-narrowness

and what next? in the composition of threshold

a part payment for the next step, a sort of coast to coast on the doorstep, that sloshes over my boycott

too bad that there is always a tousle with conscience like a wind-up toy at my heels, how far do I need to go to feel safe without rounding up the world for that postponed reunion

like a hot potato in someone else’s hands

always painting the corner into myself
karate chopping the stumbling block
that’ll tide me over
and lend sense to the letter where I’m always out of my depth

not long after

there was a lay off from 'as I now know it'
the alarm raised from its lair
rekindling the knitted-together,
putting right the vamp-up these decisions cause
as havoc plays with cumbersome thinking

the absentminded caretaker of enthusiasms
half-heartedly coaxed back to castles in the air
all attempts to cross-examine these blind spotted clouds
are failing now,
a prolonged case of acting without foresight
letting slip the need to pry into this laxity
a residue of slow-release
put on the kid gloves and spoon-feed this time being

attempt to nuzzle up to deflated dedication and light the touch paper

uncatered for, this head on shoulders knows what well-considered blundering this is

an off-target smattering of some private knowledge to set store by
like the ravings of verdict
a stipulation of infallibility
a condition measured by return

deserted attention ruminating on an ambush of artificial fading
overshadowing the walkie-talkie bravura,
the peep peep, pit-a-pat tang