Saturday, 5 December 2009
I've had to eat my own words,
I stuffed them in some humble pie.
Quite nice actually.
So-called own-grown words,
Taste much fuller-bodied,
And flow sweeter off the tongue,
Than words sold on supermarket shelves;
Although I've been told
the new M&S range of organic Tuscan words is,
Most supermarket words sold - even free-range,
And E numbers,
So every time you consume a word,
You have to consume its E number,
Munch munch "mermiad", munch munch "E218",
See what I mean?
Hope that makes sense.
Eating other people's words,
Can be more than a little disconcerting too,
Don't you think?
Always leaves me with a feeling of,
Eating other people's words.
I know it's always lovely,
On romantic occasions,
To devour words succulent,
Plucked like harpoons from our surrogate lips.
And I have to share with you,
This one amazing time,
When I ate the words chanted,
From a Siberian shaman trance,
Intensely smokey and nutty they were,
With a hint of pine.
Had some quite amazing dreams afterwards too!
I'll tell you about them sometime,
Only if you're interested though!
I can imagine listening to someone else
wax lyrical about their shamanic-word-dreams,
Is, well, probably an acquired taste.
But if you ever have the chance,
To inebriate yourself on Siberian shamanic trance words,
And I promise,
You wont regret it.
Just make sure you don't drive afterwards!
When I ate my own words,
Marinated in pieces of my own humble pie,
I saved a piece for you,
And in case you are curious of the words,
I prepared earlier for my filling,
Here they are:
Uv wxyz (pronounce uv wicksis),
Bet you can't buy those in the supermarket!
If any Siberian shaman are reading this,
And recognise any of these words as your own,
Please accept my apologies.
And a humble ldstdh ooaaee to you!