Morning activities

A guide to viewing — what's on at 39 William St

0900   All is still

0915   All is still still

0930   Geoffrey arises, breaks his fast, mends it again and departs — destination Bod (repeated same time tomorrow)

1045   Liz awakes and has a bath (repeated same time every day)

1100   Simon gets up

1145   Liz, having finished her ablutions, sits self in living room for breakfast

1245   Having sat for an hour, written gibber in the book and had breakfast, it's now time for lunch (also available in zebra)

1335   Despite protestations, Liz stays resolutely glued to her seat for Neighbours.

— to be continued

Rubbishyat

I sometimes think one never goes to bed
But sings "The Red Flag" in a hat instead
And certainly if a census were conducted
The living are outnumbered by the dead.

And each invigorating walk we take
Down here on earth for very boredom's sake
May cause a hurricane to be concocted
Or someone up on Mars to bake a cake.

A meteorologist, while drinking gin
Happened to see the Apocalypse begin
Eschatological weather forecast!
"Light showers, and fire and brimstone in King's Lynne."

For every trope the poet has invented
So many problems have been circumvented
That God might almost seem to take a hand —
The transcendental signifier has repented.

        Spool.

He thought he saw

He thought he saw an Argument
That proved he was a Goat,
He looked again and found it was
A mildewed overcoat.
"That's not so bad!" he said (quite mad)
And shoved it down his throat.

He thought he saw a cabbage-patch
Descending from the moon,
He looked again and found it was
A green and mauve baboon.
"A puzzling sight, if I see right!"
Exclaimed that mad buffoon.

Gibbons, pigs and lions

There once were some horrible gibbons
Who enjoyed tearing people to ribbons
They went through a bad patch
When they met with their match
Having stumbled upon Bernard Cribbins.

Quite suddenly panic ensued
When the wings from the pigs came unglued
They descended together
Like birds without feathers
With numerous greenness endued.

A signwriter outside a pub
Was hit by a man with a club.
"It's just that I've seen
You need more space between
The words 'Lion' and 'And' and 'And' and 'Cub'."

The absence of sane

There once was an oven of toothpaste
And microwave, igloo and roof space
O the metatext rhymes
In a sign of the times
But it isn't really in good taste.

(Just to demonstrate that I can tell the différance...)

[ There was once a young lad from Penzance
Who was after a bit of romance
So he took a big chance
And asked "her" to dance
But it turned out that she was from France

There was once an old bloke of Vienna
Who'd churn out psychology for a tenner,
His name was Sig Freud
And he really enjoyed
Sex with a new Kenwood Blender

It was the strain on the fish
That turned me in brain
That and the absence of sane.

Krud gibber twaddle tosh

Carrots in a row, too — so where? So Krud. Gibber. There are too many words here. Too much rubbish, krud, tosh, twaddle, blurb, gibber, garble, waffle, ... where's my θησαυρος?

I can't imagine! You may have contributed more.

There once was a shelf with a bowl on
Next to which Liz had drawn a semicolon
And a picture of Iggy
Who was fat like a piggy
And his ears were on stalks. Goodbye — so long!

There once was a [somethingty something]
Who had completely lost her marbles
She would about signs
Found between the lines
But her text looks like nothing but garble.