not that

morrison happened to be at the f—— — — club when the unfortunate dustup occurred between caldwell and burnaby, and after a few meaningful glances from the other members who were present, he attempted to negotiate a truce between them. caldwell assumed his usual air of slightly self-satisfied indifference, as if to say, “come now, is this really worth arguing about?” - his habitual pose after deliberately provoking someone in his sly way. but what, really, could good old morrison do? after listening to both sides, he cleared his throat snd addressed burnaby - “well, old fellow, i agree that caldwell here could have been a little more tactful - i might even venture to say, a bit more gentlemanly in the way he expressed himself - but after all, we are not children here, to cry about hurt feelings, eh? i suppose one member of the f———— club can express himself in a forthright fashion to another member, can he not? and on any subject he pleases, eh?” “but not about that!” burnaby cried wrathfully. “not that!” and despite’s morrison’s effort to restrain him, he rushed out the door, down the stairs and into the street, where a steady rain was falling. poor jeffsworth had to be despatched after him, to give him his hat and umbrella. although the incident was never spoken of, the feeling of good fellowship at the f—— — — club had been irretrievably punctured, and the club began its slow decline. sometimes, on rainy afternoons, i can still hear burnaby crying - “not that! not that!”

carnivore

call me a carnivore, call me a bum but everything is yum yum yum my shoes are scuffed and my suit is not neat but everybody needs something to eat as earthly creatures walk through dust and to survive do what they must to get the energy to move their feet some are eaten that others may eat oh how my senses quicken at the thought of deep fried chicken and how my soul doth quake at the dream of a thick steak o vegetarians so solemn i just take’em as i swallow’em and prelapsarians so stern please let me take my turn with philosophers and fools at the banquet of molecules some called living, and some not some ice cold, some piping hot i shove them down my throat with a half-remembered quote from a suave gourmet who stated that all to be devoured are fated the universe is one big mouth draining its glass from north to south chewing itself from east to west without rest so let the hot sauce burn for some day your own turn at the celestial barbecue will come due

out of the woods

people are bad, they should be good once they lived in an enchanted wood and listened to the voices of witches and elves but now they just want to be themselves and so they burnt the forest down and packed their bags and came to town and sit in rooms and watch television and never know what they are missing but what they are missing who can say? as i was saying just the other day if only i was a movie star and had a rolls royce with a built in bar and everyone in the world was my friend and the good times would never end what would i have to look forward to? i would still be sad and blue wouldn’t you? and yet it’s true i would get no sympathy just because i was me and not people who were not myself how i wish i could be an elf or a witch in a forest dark or a dog being walked in a park by a human who wants to get back to cut himself some slack and just stare at the ceiling because the world has lost all feeling i am sorry if i lost my train of thought sinking in civilization’s rot my soul has been sold and bought and all is what it once was not

humans

humans are strange creatures with many curious features they have two sides to their brains a fact difficult to explain the two sides are at war but do not know what for and why humans do the things they do no one knows - strange but true a human could get by with some water and a patch of sky a banana to ward off hunger pains and a tree to sit under when it rains instead, in many instances they choose to spend their brief existences forming empires and nations and heeding prophets’ stern orations to rise against the things that are and listen to voices from afar the voices of creatures who never die but live forever beyond the sky in such ways they fill up the minutes that flow through the world while they are in it it may seem curious from afar but that is just the way they are o you from galaxies far flung and universes no longer young who are you to judgment render on human life so soft and tender? their life, like yours, is only smoke and if they treat it as a joke or matter for the deepest sorrow it will all be the same tomorrow

dark night of vengeance, part 2: phll and bill

part two of ?

for part one, click here

the streets are merciless they don't care if you confess to the most desperate crimes or stoop to pick up nickels and dimes phil stumbled through the night with no coherent plan of flight but only hoped to make his way through the darkness into day he had seen it all before he had heard the oceans roar in his drowning desperate brain and had felt the whole worlds pain he was the cursed one the seventeenth son of the seventeenth son but just as you would expect he got no respect in his youth he had struv to earn the world’s love but to his eternal shame he could not learn the rules of the game when emily brown, who had welcomed his advances on bill smith cast friendly glances phil had no veneer of civilized grace but his passion blazed forth on his red face emily laughed out loud and quickly attracted a crowd which with untrammeled hoots and jeers derided poor phil’s primal masculine fears phil seized emily by the throat the onlookers quickly took note and rescued the poor damsel before phil could finish sending her to hell phil was charged with assault he hired a lawyer named walt walt did the best he could but the results were not good phil testified so forlorn but the jury reacted with scorn to his tale of provoked passion for such pleas were no longer in fashion the judge brought down the hammer phil got five years in the slammer and as he was led away he heard his rival bill smith say as a law-abiding citizen i insist that five years is a slap on the wrist and when you get out, old son your troubles will have only begun emily brown went away exactly where, no one could say bill smith blamed phil for her fleeing and hatred consumed his whole being in letters to phil, bill let loose with an endless stream of abuse and promised phil, when let out, a harsh fate because bill would be waiting at the gate four years went by - and then phil busted out of the pen! when two true desperadoes named roger and clyde obligingly took phil along for the ride roger and clyde left phil by the side of a dark road - with nowhere to run or hide hunted - without a friend! hunted - though the road never end! somehow the years went by always out of the corner of his eye phil waited for the hand on his shoulder as he grew slower, weaker, and older phil somehow found employment though he never knew what anything meant and fell into a routine and almost forgot who and where he had been of desires he had only one - to remain in oblivion was that now to be denied? to the pitiless sky phil cried his cry echoed down the dark street and the flapping of his running feet and the bubbling in his brain were only heard by the wind and the rain (to be continued)

the ballad of the moogle and the dink

i don’t know if you have noticed, said the moogle to the dink but we have been too long without a drink my friend, you are right, the dink replied let us remedy that situation, before our souls are tried and so they entered the first bar that they approached and there they found a rabbi, a nun, and a football coach the rabbi was weeping into his beer so foamy and the nun was saying, sir, you don’t even know me the football coach was singing a happy song and the bartender was trying to hum along cheer - some good, some not so good - was spread when suddenly the bartender dropped dead good heavens cried the moogle, as he sat upon his stool they never taught us about such things in school i hope the poor fellow was properly insured and that a long wait for our drinks we must not endure this place is cursed, the dink replied, alas there seems to be no one to fill our glass and this poor fellow seems to have no friends to mourn his most untimely end not so, the football coach suddenly asserted no, not at all, the rabbi weepingly blurted he was the finest of men, the nun assented and yet his earthly form was only rented if the pope were here - he left only minutes ago all the proper prayers he would surely know but we can only meditate on fate and hope for our next drinks we have not long to wait these meditations of the assembled drunks were interrupted by a gang of punks and hoodlums with an agenda of their own who proceeded to make the place their home the bartender’s corpse was quickly tossed aside no barbaric impulse was left unsatisfied the coach, the nun, the rabbi, and the dink watched helplessly and knew not what to think the moogle shook his head and softly sighed this, my friends, is the end of earthly pride all is mirrors, all is smoke and no one ever got to tell a joke

no more

there are no more secrets for spies to steal no more mysteries to be revealed no more conspiracies to be exposed that is just the way it goes everything is out in the open wisdom of the ages? - keep hoping what you see is what you get enlightenment is falling without a net alas! the younger generation heeds no stately peroration from graybeards staggering to the grave dreams are now reality’s slaves oh poor demystified planet! now just one big slab of granite who will write your epitaph when the gods chuckle and the angels laff