Wednesday, 6 May 2020

As He'd have it, Marijne the Lady of the Flies

When software went regional
and lost its own map, he asked,

"Can I kiss you horrendously?", all hyped-up
and disorganised. Nothing worse than a part-time 

perfectionist with only half an idea, shame-faced and satin-eyed, "You can be as wild and free as

you want to be, but it doesn't mean you're any good!"
It left his lips in bits.

(I dunno, I just plough it out).
She, breaking down the clown barrier,

"I need a compass" said, "and all I get is bricks". (it was then asked that minutes passed).

Over a briefcase, staring, he tripped,
"It only works if you keep an eye on it" 

Her reply, proper dry, "Cry, it's good for you". 
(I really don't like men to smell of anything). 

He store out his window, with a half-eye on the blue inanimate that scares to rust

the clearing in the woods. Fingers in ears, 
he drew cartoon dynamite and blew,

"If only we didn't have flies", so camply angry, he'd let the dog do all the talking.

(You were always in the favour of the lion tamer). The truth under a roof, and final.

In this streuth and strewn, he had the thought of selling coal in the north, but settled shallow,

to compose a ballad for the lead singer of Salad. It played heavy and unnecessary, and was

obviously shite. 

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