‘’Apocalypse means
‘Drive-in jewelery’
Amen means
’Your death-rattle will be indistinguishable
From drum and bass’
Sayeth the lord”
God’s coming back and this time
He is issue oriented
And already wearing protective goggles
You have defiled yourselves with exercise --
What happens when you do yoga is
Your soul does a really spiteful impression of you
When I was a sinner I was so flexible
After two-hours in the tree position
My eyes would slip down inside my nostrils
Now I am sedentary and do miracles
Eg
I perform surgery on moonlight that’s got MRSA
I teach Tai Kwon to box jellyfish
Then there is the miracle of The Puppy
Ten years soaking up formaldehyde
And it starts doggy-paddling in its jar
‘Your hairstyle is actually my shadow
So your hair grows when I move away
I can give you bad hair days by darting to and fro
But if you are bald I am right on top of you’
Sayeth the lord
‘I am the eco-system Santa
As prophesied repeatedly
Yet I am so small
Two acrylic nails
Stuck to the front and the back of me
Concave inwards
Are sufficient for full body armour’
Sayeth the lord
3 comments:
This has awesome running all the way through it like 'Blackpool' through a stick of rock.
Crickey, thank you, Tim! You've made my day.
I wrote this about a kind of Dystopic Afterlife of a Dog Lover...
Life never mutters inaudbibly in my ear -- no, she shouts so loudly I glimpse her tonsils in violent transit! Yesterday I went shopping for a dog whistle in a part of the city I had never visited before. The leaves on the trees had been fitted with anti-theft tags. CCTV cameras were animatronic robot hybrids, and followed people around at a distance of about one metre, mounted on things that resembled go-karts with caterpiller treads. Street vendors were doing a steady trade in sewing up men's pockets and stitching women's hands finger-to-palm over the straps of their handbags. Any vehicle that was parked had a feed line into the city's electricity grid and were live, rippling with voltage. A pigeon landed on one just a little way ahead of me and was still landing and getting skyborn and landing when I came past half an hour later, although its body was now seared to carbon through and through and you could have used it to write with or define your eyes and the effect would have been of pitch mascara/liner. The deeper I trod into this alien landscape the more it became impossible to either see through the shop windows or locate the shop entrances because of the massed grafitti. It was like in a soap when some numpty does the decorating and they wallpaper over the doors and windows and then can't find their way out and that's how the producers exit them from the show. By now I can be numbered amongst the Walking Bewildered and I've yet to get a dog whistle -- my dog wants to take up the nose-flute, but his music teacher insists he starts on the traditional dog-whistle till he masters the technical manipulation and phrasings and lipping and tripple tonguing and so forth. And I'm in the bit of the city carrying a slip of paper on which is inscribed the address of the only specialist all-species catered for musical instrument shop this side of the Mariana Trench. My head is swimming, then I realise I've toppled over into a public fountain, so I try to struggle out but I'm hampered by the fact that the usual fountain statuary are, like the CCTV cameras, animatronic-robotic hybrids, and they're triggered by unusual wave patterns in the water and turbulence beyond weather conditions and they've come at me like WWF contestants and I've suffered about five successive body slams, a double nelson, three headlocks, and I am about to succumb to a piledriver when, upside down and barely conscious, I spot the shop I'm seeking! Sadly, by the time the grunt statues had dished out the due amount of punishment as prescribed in the local bye laws, it had shut for the night. You should have seen the look on my dog's face when I returned home with a bamboo glockenspiel instead, complete with small, velcro-fastening mittens with ping pong balls sewn onto the end to emulate the pummels on the end of drumsticks.
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