Persiflage on a Mayday Pyx

by grimbeau

You returned bearing only a keen clean sentience of an inner voice previously unheard thus impossible to speak of in slick descriptive narratives; a new voice slushing pumping ironic pellucid entropic morphemes only too willing to give way when you enter unannounced in the tranquil hours unimpaired by time’s incessant must be’s;

some say self-compassion works both ways; they say it’s good to talk to invisible friends and to say i worry about you a lot and know they will never understand and will freak out the same way too when they see no way out but up; but here in the lonely cenarial world there is just the remnants of the oleaginous rip of dreamtime in the eventless shires.

You peruse five-line entries, enforce four-line whips, smooth the cat o’nine nails, rhyme barren wombs with catacombs, eat catamites in the dolomites, get ultrasonic with catatonics–not my kind of cruise ship this–the SS Sadist. Still whatever floats your boat at these prices is that which don’t disturb the horsiest riding rough shod over crippling waves and learning to ignore the gentle thud of plaintive houris hitting patinated sackbuts; always keeping an eye open for the main chance mindset to make a run for it across the open border washed up by all waters only to find one finds occupation of the crease involves focussed awareness to achieve the desired outcomes:

Celtic knots do my wee head in (think upside the box); midday shakedown, let the blood flow in damson rivers of chicken livers; overlook five lie whip transgression; respect the rules in order to break them, just play the bloody game for once. Abide by the unwritten law of oblique estrangement during storm lashed nights, caress thunder and lightning from the north and come sunny morn, when no milk’s delivered, draw lurid conclusions– twist metal, befuddle puddles, ravage hats distressed by no real vision to speak of; respect a sloth unprovoked to rise in spite of prophecy. Read some myth for illumination. Shower or Scuba for kicks. Bear in mind a nose pegs trumps lemon air freshener. Hide corruption in a sock. Maintain standards by increasingly lowering. Nowt gets done if you stay abed. End of broadside…Ninety minutes that transformed your ustulated toe and brought disaster to a flawed grandmaster who failed to understand what was under his strawberry nose. Seasonal greetings from the frozen seas of Ross stranded up an endless glacier where we were only too aware the horses shall be sacrificed for some greater good called lunch…