Turquoise Monster

How many words must I write to draw the path
A path that maybe followed
How many drops of ink to mark a phrase
A phrase that sears to the bone
How many scrapes and scratches
Stains upon the page
To show the story within the tale
The tale inside the narrative
Narrative that just needs to be told
I do not know but the words they come
Slow or fast
Clogged and bursting
Fits and starts
Words that fill us up one mind at a time
The paradox of being the filler up
When the fuller the mind
The larger the ideascape
An ideascape of problem solving capabilities
No limits only challenges
Thought cascade…
splurged on the page.

I threw dark roses into the sea One for you and another for me

The road we trod upon was hell Our destination? Well who can tell?

Those roses they float upon the waves We’ll never sit easy in different graves

Cos you and me is forever Time and death will never sever

But that doesn’t mean you belong to me No one should cage what should be free

Petals drift down to abyssal floor Where in decay they become something more

Part of several bigger tales Love is triumph even when it fails

Dark roses washed on the shore We are whole for now and ever more

I will stand by your side Together we shall have no need to hide

Little roses and stranger dreams Love mixes with such gothic themes

Two little roses and two little dreams No not those suicidal love packed memes

Dark little roses deep in hue One is for me and one is for you

A future spun upon the wheel That cuts and bits and makes you feel

Just as the thorn of the rose A blood drip for lips is how this one goes

I threw the roses into the sea A sacrifice for a little you and a littlier me

Memories catch on
Puddle ducks and suirrally squirrals
Bar lambs and piggy wigs
All the floatsom of childhood
Bobbing on the brain
Tank engine in blue
Fire trucks in red
Building blocks in green
Ducks of yellow –
Dynastic citizens of the bath
Dolls for the changing
And mud pies for the baking
All the barbed wire of innocence
Snagging at a toweling sleeve
Keeping out the world
But not for long.

They are mud and grass and sunset skies,
dull with fatigue though often bright with tears,
they darken at memories and lighten with laughter.

Fleck speckles break the radial lines,
the iris is distorted by lens and through the eye glasses,
thick and cumbersome.

Oval pupils subtly not cat slits.

My partner bought me some story writing dice which have themed pictures on and which are great for making up silly stories on the fly!

But they also got me a large set of Haiku Dice – as in there are a lot of dice and the rules for how to use them are slightly more involved!

I think they work well if used a bit like fridge poetry but I was abit annoyed to find that there were blank spaces and repeats on some of the dice but that is only due to personal preference on how I like to use such writing aids.

Still they are pretty useful and we have both had a lot of fun with them and I am looking forward to constructing some writing workshops around them 😀

The Boggle Bog
was a monstrous log
that lived in the swamps of Forgetme Knot

Large and brown
covered with lichen down
to hide him in the swamps of Forgetme Knott

With teeth of pinecone
he was apt to roam
Within the swamps of Forgetme Knott

He would wait for strangers
but hide from the rangers
Knowing as he did the swamps of Forgetme Knott

A fearsome ROAR
set the score
OF fear in the swamps of Forgetme Knott

And upon his brow
a fungus crown
For ruler was he in the swamps of Forgetme Knott

I’ve been awondering a wondering a wondering
For a long time now
A wondering what you see in me
Ever since you said to me
Lets go for a drink or three

I’ve been a wondering a wondering a wondering
for a long time now
A wondering how you put up with me
Everytime I scream you just make me a cup of tea
Hug me an leave me be

I’ve been awondering wondering wondering
for a long time now
wondering will you stay with me
Even though I push you away from me
You fetch me back each time I flee

Maurice the musical mechanical mouse
Lives in a wonderful little house
The chimney is made of a silver flute
And when the wind blows it will toot
The well is a cymble above a drum
When you turn the handle it goes
Pa ra pa pa rum

Maurice the musical mechanical mouse’s
wonderful little house is
Tiled in piano keys
That pigeons play just how they please
And the walls were xylophone bars
That are played by tiny crickets
driving tiny cars

Maurice the musical mechanical mouse
invites the choir to his lovely little house
They all drink tea
From glass ware tuning to D
And Maurice picks up the spoons
An improvised orchester
Soon fills the room

Maurice the musical mechanical mouse
Lives in a tonialy quaint little house
With crickets a clicking
Choirs a singing
Drum wells a dinging
Spoons a pinging
Bell tea cups a ringing
Flute chimneys a tooting
Orchesters Hooting
Pigeons and roof piano plinking

in hale

What a wonderful sound
it all would be
if they were all playing the same song
In the same key
As Mr mechanical Mousy!

Gaming boring boardgames
Gambling gumdrops
Frittering our free time
Singing to the tots!
Theme tunes
With plushy amime heros
Knitting alien head gear
Making cosplay
With spaceship cookies
Daftpunk dreams

The dead teacher hung from the rafters
A distended face locked in agonising turn
Students gaze glassy eyed uncomprehending
As they return to a parody of education
With all facts ripped from within

The police office was garrotted
Lycra tights of the sex worker
cutting into a thick neck that was stuck out
Trying to help
Now they line up against a different wall
Chips of masonry fail to plug oozing wounds

The charity worker a bloody pulp
Beaten with her own walking aids
Passers by avoid the mess with careful steps
Some remember… something
Litter the streets with copper coins
Until the street cleaners clean the stain