I don't like the table to
peter out
at this end
We haven't got any more
flowers have we?
We have got my splendid gold salver
Gold salver
Can you fetch my gold salver
in my study
Splendid gold salver
in my study
Flakery, fakery and bakery ((massive mycelial stir : communion spreads))
I don't like the table to
peter out
at this end
We haven't got any more
flowers have we?
We have got my splendid gold salver
Gold salver
Can you fetch my gold salver
in my study
Splendid gold salver
in my study
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Circling Wembley Stadium c. 8-9k
the endocannabinoids beginning to fizz
and Start Me Up plays from within
to pump up the runners
as it did 44 count them years ago
at this approximate location
original architecture, with a (see
if you can see him) much younger
version of me standing in the centre circle
watching the even then old Stones
playing one of their new ones. And
I'll never be a grown man, and I'll
never cry, but I will be
dead and I will come on now
there's not far to go, still
time for one last push
to the finish line
By order of the night I was compelled
to speak of Ferryby. Its random dock
bedecked in roses for one
Elevation 1,820 feet. State a fact
make it real as the furnace
from which it was brought forth
The villages overgrown with tough weeds
and green poking out
of every untrodden patch of ground
Sail the river south-west
don't look back, ready your bow
Yes once we resided in Ferryby
Demographics: Human 77%
We shall remember its name
while forgetting its what
or where and the colour of the boat
which collected passengers
whose primary language is Common
Brung them around and so forth
the monotone voice
THE MONOTONE VOICE
The Monotone Voice
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴏᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎
𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮
𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆
𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔳𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊
𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕧𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦
𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞
𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒
ⓣⓗⓔ ⓜⓞⓝⓞⓣⓞⓝⓔ ⓥⓞⓘⓒⓔ
𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓷𝔂 . 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒚 . 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔶 . 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕪
🅃🄷🄴 🄼🄾🄽🄾🅃🄾🄽🄴 🅅🄾🄸🄲🄴
the monotone voice
t h e m o n o t o n e v o i c e
t.h.e m.o.n.o.t.o.n.e v.o.i.c.e
Street haunting my wobbly way home
corner of St Augustine's and Murray when
Look out it's the Peelers
My companions suddenly evaporate
the jam sandwich brakes hard and the feller's
fast out and up in my grill, polite like
'Excuse me sir you match the description
of someone we'd like to talk to
regarding a serious incident'
My default pos in such circs
regretfully
is flippancy and verbosity
'You must be sorely mistaken officer sir because
I match no description anyone even the most
imaginative writer could conjure
either verbally
or armed with pen why
even these days the old AI'
'Now look here - '
'It can't be me, whatever it is I have or
haven't done because you see I am sui generis'
He shakes his head and purses his pretty lips
'You do not have to say anything... '
And so forth before
announcing rather prissily that I could
well be charged with misuse
of the King's Latin on the
public highway, what a jumped up trumped up little
Realise I'm speaking out loud
'Get in the back of the van!'
He was only 4 feet 6
but he could swagger down the street
waving loaded pistols
his Great Dane by his side
*Bounce*
At the age of 12 he contracted a form
of tuberculosis leading to spinal curvature
He was frail
asthmatic
and in chronic pain
he had stunted growth.
A pronounced hunchback, who
required a stiff canvas bodice to stand upright
but Alexander Pope was not an asshole
Not like me
He was only 4 feet 6
but he would stagger down the street
as a satirist of the Enlightenment era.
And girls could not resist his
witty letters
He lived in a villa at Twickenham
filled with the relaxing sound of trickling water.
And how about you boy, what have you done?
Some people try to pick up girls
this maybe happened to A Pope
who had an unrequited infatuation
with Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
But then he had his high fevers, the inflamed eyes
and abdominal pain. Result: erotic unfulfillment
Yet possessed of a sharp, flirtatious mind
Alexander Pope was never called - except by
his numerous enemies - an asshole
Yes he was only 4 feet 6
had platonic bonds with Martha B
but it was Lady M who he had the eyes for
This led to an outburst, a declaration
whereupon she laughed in his face.
Mortifying, such mortification, a rupture
Leading to a twelve-year literary war. Now, some say
acceptance of rejection is the best form of self-care.
And you have to realize not everybody has to love you
Mmmmmmm