Pretentious Poetry

In September 2009 I was apparently inspired, whilst gardening, to write some pretentious poetry (supposedly nonsense, but I may have put meaning into them, and it seems that part of me thought that they were ironically pretentious, but I don’t even remember writing them). By the looks of it I liked the letter A.

 

Antithalian Apocatastasis

A panoply of crescendos sound the alarms,
Magniloquence interred.
Scholars and saints malevolently disarmed,
Perpetuation incipient.
Virulent perversion deified,
Apotheosis complete.
Putrefaction of souls fortified,
Sheol for the masses.
Apocalyptic signs in breakfast cereals,
Conflagration praised.
Elected supremacists gain life ethereal,
Abacinate the convoluted.
The end is nigh, all sinners die!
The end is nigh!

Misanthropy Veiled in Amorous Rhetoric

Deserved denigration, denied
Noetic rumination, denied
Veracious tergiversation, denied
Je t’aime, ik hou van jouw, nakupenda!
It’s good to be alive?

Aroynt Apocalyptic Ariolaters!

Apotropaic intentions auspicated,
Amanuenses venerated,
Arcifinious ignorance propagated,
Acidulous dissent eradicated,
Absterge!
Absterge!

Story for Frankie 2

This appears to have been written in 2010 or earlier. It is another story written for my friend Frankie, though I don’t remember writing it. I tried to be clever this time by the looks of it.

For Frankie

Five hundred years ago, or possibly just last week, though it may even be in the future, Frankie, Steve, Jason and a frog called Fred, set off on a frightfully fun adventure which resulted in them getting lost; stuck in a place nobody could identify (which is usually what happens when one is lost). Fruit trees grew there, fruitfully, as they are wont to do. Fortuitously there was a cheery atmosphere about the place, so Steve spent his time reciting Shakespeare.

“Full fathom five thy father lies:

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Hark! now I hear them, –

Ding, dong, bell.”

Flies flew around their heads, which makes one wonder if flies would be flies with any other name. Frantically, Jason tried to figure out where they were by climbing a funny looking fig tree. Frankie did not have time to warn him that this funny looking fig tree was not a fig tree at all, in fact, it looked nothing like one. Fred the frog had never seen such a big lion, which is not surprising considering he has never seen a normal sized lion either. Forty feet above their heads stood the shoulder of the great beast, with a fine mane of fabulous fur.

Running, running, running, ran the trio, with Fred the frog hidden in a random pocket. Right into a cave they ran, leaving the ridiculously large lion behind. Rustling sounds echoed around the cave, when, suddenly, light rapidly filled it, revealing that the rustling was Steve searching for matches in his pockets, only to find a torch instead. Royal riches filled the cave, always conveniently tucked just out of torchlight, so nobody actually spotted them. Ribbiting away, the frog relaxed in the splendour of safety, whilst the others rambled and ranted on about their narrow escape, rationalising the day’s events. Really the lion was a fake; fakely it was a fake too.

After a while our ambitious heroes got restless and decided to venture out of the cave, Steve was anxious, Jason apathetic, Frankie austere, and the frog amphibious. Austerity was not the actual trait Frankie was displaying, it just sounded good. As they travelled onwards, through dense forests with apples and aubergines, through swamps filled with adders and the occasional subtractor, they grew weary and tired. A lot of people in this situation would have simply realised it was a dream and woken up, but that is such a poor way to end a story.

Nearly nine days into their adventure supplies had ran out. Nappies had been used up, but nobody knows who used them. Naturally they ate the frog, grilled over a simple fire. Normally hints of cannibalism arise in the narrative, but not here. North of their position, only about two miles away, there was a Nandos, but they were not to know, so they soldiered on with only frog in their bellies and thankfully not in their throats. Not much happened in the next three days, except a random tribe which practically deified them and fed them heartily, even offered them virgin brides; Jason took three but lost them later on down the back of the settee.

Kings and a queen they became, but royalty did not suit them. Kakistocracy is the correct term for the government they formed. Kangaroo-like steeds were given to them as a gift in order to get rid of them, though we call these things horses normally and they look nothing like kangaroos. Kiwis don’t either, but you should know that already.

It might be obvious, but the letter K is not an easy one to play around with. Irrelevant as it may have been to point that out, it does distract from the fact that not much is going on in the story except a lot of horse riding. Imagine riding horses through dense forest for days on end and that is what our protagonists were going through. If you don’t find that boring then you don’t need to know what came next. In one of the fastest manoeuvres in history, the travelling troupe were flanked by an army of frogs, intent on revenge. Ignominiously they surrendered, but as the frogs were French they were beaten to it. Ideally only one side surrenders, but in this interesting situation both sides did and instead went back to their opposition’s base.

Every single one of the frogs never returned, they just wandered aimlessly looking for a non-existent base. Each of our heroes had everything in the frog camp to eat, enough to feed eight armies, including some of the frog guards to eat too. Ecstasy in belly form was experienced by all, after which they fell asleep. Except that it didn’t happen like that, this was exaggerated, there were no guards to be eaten and the food could only feed six-and-a-half armies at a push. Even so, they slumbered on and entered a dream world where crazy things happen constantly.

 

End. The.

Story for Frankie

Here is another story from 2007. I wrote it for my friend Frankie, she must have been in need of cheering up, or was bored, or maybe I was bored, who knows? Either way, I wrote some nonsense for her.

 

Story for Frankie

One day Frankie and I were out walking, the sky smelt of marshmallow and there was the sound of indigo all around. We had no specific place to be so we thought we should go in search of an eatery which would sell our favourite meal. This happened to be honey coated magpie, which is a rare delicacy found on an obscure island off the coast of West Africa.

As we were nowhere near Africa we just wandered aimlessly, talking about the sound a baby’s eyes make and what numbers feel like. We passed many a flying toaster, but as they are so common we ignored them, singing songs about that mermaid I met last week in Tesco (she was rather obese so the songs were quite cruel) and skipping along. Skipping was rather tricky as the ground appeared to be made of chocolate and the Sun was out, though we skipped on, albeit slowly.

That was when we were picked up and put in a cupboard in between the Weetabix and the flour. Inside the flour, buried deep, were a few cabbages, 10 tins of beans and more Weetabix (but no milk). It is rather fortunate that I carry a spade in my pocket on every third Thursday of the month.

We got rather comfortable in that cupboard but sadly had to leave due to Frankie’s donkey allergies. Apparently the DNA link between donkeys and Weetabix is very close and when the wind is blowing in a green direction it can affect those with allergies. Frankie didn’t even know this, the man with the beard told us in 3 days time, I can’t wait!

As we now could no longer stay in the cupboard we carried on wandering, through the forest full of houses, through the meadow full of trees, through the orchard of sand and the valley of mountains. It was a grand adventure which finally ended when we reached the lake.

The lake was packed full of ridiculous looking creatures such as ducks and swans. The water reflected the light from my shoes and lit up our armpits. Deep inside our armpits a portal was opened to another dimension. (This can happen once a month if you face south with a fish named Joe in your pocket, which I carry next to my spade.)

Eagerly, we both jumped through each other’s portals, which was a tricky, well choreographed manoeuvre which shouldn’t have worked but did. At first we had no idea where we were, there was a putrid smell emanating from the smooth, soft ground, with strange trees growing around. The ground appeared to be leaking what appeared to be water but which carried the aforementioned stench.

It was then that we realised that this dimension was in fact my own armpit inside our own dimension. We had no idea how to get back, so we simply sat on a rug and counted to ruby but both fell asleep before we got that high.

We were woken abruptly by the sound of hair and found that we were in our own beds at the foot of the castle. It was even snowing purple, or maybe green, I always muddle those two up.

From then on we have gone about our lives as though our adventure never happened.

Easter 2007

This is the oldest piece of writing I can find on my computer. I didn’t really write much back then and have corrected a couple of errors but have tried to leave it as is (like many, I hate reading old writing). It is just a silly piece about what I did during Easter, written as a blog post.

Easter 2007

Thought I’d add yet another blog and fill you in on my pretty average Easter.

My Easter started quite dull, I had some work to do on Saturday the 31st and was not pleased. I woke up late with some small creature jumping up and down on my head, after it had laid its furry eggs in my throat. One of the eggs cracked and filled up my stomach. This persisted throughout the day and made everything that bit more difficult. After the usual morning routine I decided it was time to work and went off to the mines as per usual, only to find that the network was closed and my tunnel could not be accessed.

This was quite distressing as I hadn’t met my quota for the year so far and meant that I would have to return to the mine quite soon to finish it off. But for the time being I focused on the journey ahead. I was heading back to Conan’s Burgh in the Shire of York, approximately 88,000 miles away, which believe me, when you have a small creature on your head banging his drums (I forgot to mention the drums, how could I ever forget?) it can be quite unbearable.

The quickest way to get there would be in the bowels of a giant grey worm, I thought. Little did I know that the worms often get too full and rather ‘sluggish’ so to speak, and so take a little longer than expected. To make it more bearable I put a tiny band in each of my ears and allowed them to serenade me whilst the giant worm ploughed onwards.

Eventually I got home to Conan’s Burgh and was promptly taken to the Tick Hill (home of the famous Cock fair) to feast in honour of the 79th anniversary of the birth of my mother’s mother. The feast was amazing, with creamy mash, I had half a cow and a full roast pig to myself too. I was offered the chance to party in old Danum that night, though I turned it down, having just gotten rid of the creature on my head (and his incessant drum banging).

The following day I remember little, except that I once more stepped inside the giant grey worm and headed back to get ready to work the next morning. It was rather similar to the previous day, though with no little creature.

Upon waking the next day, I returned to the mine and found that my tunnel was accessible and got to work as fast as I could. I believe I met my quota, so I returned back on the worms again to Conan’s Burgh, this time for a slightly longer stay.

The next two days were spent with my children, playing with them, teaching them and just having a good time. I wish I could have had more time with them, but sadly they had to go.

The Thursday was spent with my twin sister Naomi and our cousin Siobhan, heading back to my place of work. Naomi is fortunate to have a nice metal chariot, which we rode back to the mine, just so I could hand in my paperwork on time. Thanks to her generosity (though I fed the horses) I treated them both to a hearty meal. I myself had the side of cow, before we headed back on what turned out to be a long, tedious journey.

Good Friday came around and I did not venture to the place of worship, nor did I visit the Tick Hill Cock Fair. Instead I met an old friend of mine, a farmer. We stood in a field and right before my eyes he created a whole landscape, with sky, trees, buildings, everything, right before my very eyes. In honour of his skills I toasted him with a drink and played my music to him with the skills which my hands possess.

The next day I ventured into Danum with my mother and proceeded to pick out a lady for me to play with. I set my eyes on one sooner than I had imagined. She had beautiful curves, a brunette who felt good in my hands. I felt comfortable holding her, and as I got used to handling and caressing her she made the most beautiful sounds. I knew that no other could match her, so we paid her owner and she will live with me from my 21st birthday onwards.

That evening I joined the farmer again along with another friend in the vicarage. We drank merrily as I serenaded them, talking into the night. The farmer once again demonstrated his skill at creating life with just his hands and then I gave it a go too. John, the other friend, showed us his ability to create relationships between tiny people he created, it was all very fascinating.

The next day started rather early, and I ventured out to the castle with my friends to help erect a large marquis and some barriers. Then we relaxed in the magnificent weather, playing songs and chatting away. More friends joined us and we even jumped on a small castle which had been erected in front of the castle proper.

I then returned to my place of living and had another feast prepared by my mother whilst watching tiny people in a box perform a play to us. I then ventured out with my friend and our trusty hounds on a quest of no particular purpose except to have been somewhere.

The next 2 days were spent in the acre of Bess, creating music with my cousin and a dear friend. We ended said creative session by going out around Danum consuming fine alcohol in many establishments. The night ended for me when I decided to trek 50 miles home through many dangerous territories, due to my honed skills I managed it unscathed.

I awoke the next morning and ventured out on more giant worms, out to a valley to live with one of my future wives. There I consumed large amounts of cheese, watched tiny men duel in a box and attempted to drink alcohol, though some dwarves managed to steal it from me. I was then introduced to a strange creature who vomited far too much and took it upon myself to clean up his mess, by then the dwarves had taken all of my precious alcohol.

The next morning I decided to be a bit lazy and ventured out with my dear friend Lord Duncan and found a huge cliff face where we sat and watched battle commence below us.

We returned and played games until Kate (the future wife) made us a delectable feast and we drank merrily into the night. The next day was spent sadly leaving the house of Kate, though a long and arduous journey lay ahead for my friend and I. We first took the liberty of drinking more beer, before leaving for a place where I believe old ham is kept. This place flew the flag of the red rose, which is not one which we like to associate with, though we were hungry and needed feeding. We took our time choosing the place to eat, and although the food was good, we were heavily overcharged.

We promptly left this place and ventured on the worms all the way to our separate homes, which took a very long time. Upon returning I decided to have a few beverages in some fine establishments in the land of Conan’s Burgh and ended up staying out all night. The night ended with me playing with the serpent of an old friend, before returning home, I was not fit for the trip to Jorvik the next day so I had a nice relaxing day to round off my Easter.

The End