That Special Something

It's not quite there yet,
Not quite there.
Don't get me wrong,
It's nearly there,
Almost nearly,
I don't know,
I'm just not sure,
There's still that indefinable,
That special something,
That's still missing.
An imperceptible,
An imperceptible something,
Like when I see a duck on a pond,
I think,
Oh look a duck on a pond,
Isn't that's nice, but,
Then I can't help but ask:
But where are the other ducks,
To keep this one duck company?
Why are there no other ducks in the pond?
It's just not right - the duck,
All alone like that,
Especially on a Friday,
Or a Saturday night,
Can you imagine?
Can't be much fun for a solitary duck,
Gliding sadly,
And all so alone,
Through the too quiet,
Too still water,
Circling, gliding, alone,
Beneath the weekend moonlight.
Know what I mean?

Magic Novel

This novel,
Is just so enjoyable,
I can't read it anymore,
Because then I will finish it,
So it will end,
And I will never feel the pleasure,
Of reading it for the first time again.
So I'll carry always this magic novel with me,
Wherever I may go,
I only like to finish the bad ones quickly,
With great ones that's never so.

Telethon Teletubbies

T.V-teletubby-telethon-celebrities:
"We're about saving lives
- so please give",
But watch,
And after a while,
You may lose the will to live.

Closer To Life

Now,
If I hear,
Just one more time,
Yet another noxious celebrity,
Another agony aunt/uncle,
Another New Age chat show Oprah-Christ,
Babble in forked-tongue:
"First you must love yourself,
Before you are able to love anyone else",
I promise,
I will puke the blood of a thousand dodos,
Pull out from my ears the tails of wailing mermaids,
Weep the tears of the Martian Pyramid Pharaohs,
Piss the holy ectoplasm
of one apologetic millionaire stockbroker,
Crunch on the teeth of a dead Icelandic troll,
And then?
Then gaze at a waning moon,
And whisper..
It just ain't so.

It just ain't so.

And as I water-board the first self-help narcissist,
With the boiling snake oil of the last deep-think toxic dalek,
I'll wonder what kind of air,
Do such sages breathe.
You have to love yourself first?
Why?
No thanks.
I don't want to love myself.
I don't.
Sorry.
And I don't need to love myself,
To love someone else.

Respect yourself,
If you think you're deserving;
Like yourself,
If you like;
And love another,
As you can;
Then, maybe,
If you're lucky,
You'll be touched by an open heart,
That yearns to,
Belong,
To another;
Two hearts, now,
Closer to the senseless beauty of Life.

In Extremisly, The Mustard Slayer

I am a tad dumbfounded,
A teeny bit stunned,
A smidgen aghast,
A tiddly bit amazed..
That this jar of French mustard,
Not that one - this one,
Is nearly,
Six,
Count them:
Six days,
Past its "use by" date!
Passing its "sell by" date is dangerous enough,
But its "use by"?
No wonder I've been collapsing all over the place,
Frothing at the mouth most unseemly,
Spouting crazy and quite deranged thoughts,
To giggling,
And - I have to say - deeply unsympathetic,
Passers-by.

My behaviour makes perfect sense now:
I was poisoned!
Poisoned I tell you,
By a jar of deeply expired,
Egregiously decayed,
Gravely gone,
French mustard!

I'm totally overtly,
Ghostly toast.
Empirically scientifically,
Most in extemisly,
Death-carded by a jar of French mustard!

My vitalish man's body,
Now,
Permanently poisoned,
I haven't even written my will.
Where is my God then?
Where are my rights then?
Why is it always the good ones that die such young,
Deaths,
So suddenly,
So spectacularly
Tragically and bizarre?
I surmise it's because:
We toy,
We toy and dance on life's bendy edge,
Like a drunken garden gnome,
Tottering, wobbly on a window ledge.
Such poets as I?
Yes, such poets as I,
Yes you - I, Me!
Done in,
By a jar of morgue-friendly French mustard!

Adieu then.

You don't care do you?
And please,
Don't tell me I'm exaggerating..

The Wonderful World Of Nimo Scowell

In a parallel universe,
Beyond trillions of light years away,
Lies Alternate Earth,
Where reality is so very different from our own:
The people are violet, emerald and silver;
Trees, sky goblins and penguins,
Cause global heating;
Cats and dogs are livestock;
Siamese cows and poodle gnomes
are considered the cutest, furriest house pets;
Most musicians are militant celibates;
And politicians are highly regarded as:
Trustworthy and honest,
Altruistic and self-sacrificing,
Wonderful and civic-minded public servants.
And,
The X-Factor contestants,
Perform live cover-versions of pop songs!

One of the show's judges - Nimo Scowell,
Is handsomely paid millions,
By the t.v channel,
For the privilege,
Of allowing the winners,
To make him even millions more,
Through his tie-in recording deals with them.
And,
On top of that,
His former proteges - now nano-superstars,
Are invited back onto the show,
As special guests,
To mime,
Their original neo-karaoke product-placement,
In super-glorious prime-time!
Guaranteeing even more cash tills ringing,
Like acute tinnitus,
For Nimo - the real X-Factor winner,
Every year!
Every year!

All this makes perfect sense,
On Alternate Earth,
And seems not to contravene,
Broadcasting, self-promotion and advertising rules there,
In any way!

Huh!

Give A Fish A Man

Give a man a fish,
And you can feed him for a day,
But give a fish a man,
And you can feed a fish a lifetime,
And a man can eat some chips,
Whilst he's feeding a fish.

Nothing

I'm thinking about nothing,
I'm thinking about nothing at all.
But now I'm thinking about thinking about nothing,
Does this mean I'm thinking,
About..almost nothing at all?
Almost something,
Almost nothing,
Something and nothing at all.