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Saturday, 22 June 2013

well why ?not / ? well why !!






      Babooshka  of   windsa'

yet  another  
               royal Liliputia                                            dont  catch   Us      
                                       jumpin  up'Ndown                                  !
jon swift ,            turned on his gulliver,
                                                             might   tender   his grave
                                                                               if  quoted  thus :
                                                      WE'VE  JUST  ENOUGH  ROYALTY
                                                                                                         TO  MAKE  US  HATE  THEM
                                                                    ( & )      QUITE  ENOUGH           2    LOATHE THEM


  tinklemoneys
                          toni yesmenkl / menkl noseyit
                                                                                                        Jonathanking
            gorgeousGeorgehamilton (the Inundated )                                         
                                                                                             SIEN KOMENTLY & THE LOCKNESSMUNSTERS
                  sidney james & the House of Barbara





                                         2B
                 When,                       to be  explicit ,
                                                                                          the  pore egret
                                                                                                            got savaged   by the beagle ,
        I         ( The Eejit  )       shapeshift                             -    !  illicit (elicit)   pity  -      
                  into  sickening bird  //  an ill eagle           
                                                      jo(h)nny Morris-Marr
                          Billoddie
                                    ELISYT KONMEN




   'TIS AN ILL EAGLE WITCH BLOW NO-ONE  NO GOOD
      
           summer storm.       rattling panes .
           sick bird break wind    ,                     then  glass.
    intrude .                             wait  2  swoop.

 I,    ever-a-nerd
                 ( & thinkin' on me feet!)  ,
                                                                            do a hasty  'Spurlock', *
                                                 speedgrubbing tasty
                                                                             bigBigmacs ,                    (&)  becoming
                                                                                                       fat /   Obnoxious-hitchCock.
  (nooh) That! can't save U
                                   rasp  sick bird,                  pecking out my  eyes
                                                                                                                            with  Peckhamrelish

Robertzimerman
                                                             * Supper !SizeMe -  morgan spurlok/jamieOliver
       Sik(ment) Loyne
                                 sineme T lok-yn








  ode (!Oh)   2  Barney ( who's a luckyBoy  (then)  ! ?    )
                                                                                                     when  Longlegs  yelp :
                                                                                       HEY / HERE! BIG BOY                       i  sit   erect ,
                                                                                                                                            outblarney      her    Barney

Yomti Kennels
                        BARNEYS KURLEY & RUBBLE







                                                                         Crossrunt
 As SolKleen sail on
          in merryglare            a small crossrunt
    stand                                             solitary,
               in  canny  grasp 
of  sandflat                          which   space  me
                                                                      from inCorrigible sea.
                                                                                 Crossrunt  stare ;   beg me

                                                                  to  share  mockball
              in time-honoured  fashsplash                                 and /or                     sport:
                                                                                                 OldCodgeDogDodge  !   fudge
                                  !Beg all you like, crossrunt ,
                                                                        but(t)/tho'  U  and I   both know
                                                                                              'balon'  be  egret's egg
                                                                                                      which i eat
                                                                                          in  glutinous  facsimile.
                                                                slushwaving :   Adieu !oh Crossrunt
               in  language    best fathomed
                                                               by   brightspark(s)

trad / anon
           
                                                                 








                                                                                                     exhibitionist












   .. where  all that is left after a night in a summercamp is a fuckedup record of the frequent-faux-firealarm         the compressed remains of a distressd teacher             and the afterglow of a wanton
bit-Haiku

              . . .               dying    where/when    it lie.   .. .

  So,   at night's mootpoint,   
                         what  suit  Her  best                  is  to  rest ,
                                                 burrowed ;   blind-furrowed.
  As (faux) fire alarm  crank
                                             we  wake  in  chuntergrunter
                                      and line up                 half-skank .
   ( while )     She ,   absent  ,     sleep feign,
                                think  there  no smooch without fire
                                                and kiss pillow         again .
          Yet/But(t)   this  breath   insist
                                   and when that lack       so  the odds
                                              be  stacked against  Miss.
     
               Days  later,               Teacher    . .

   (  days later ) .  ..
                           .          ....

                                                    ANON / TRAD






I love your  aloofness                     she say
                                                                       I love  your  astuteness   he say
                                  but (t)
  as she  turn    to                    smile
                                                                he  quickly       disappear
     leaving   her subjected
                                                                                                        to  a   pre-eloquent
  understanding
            of                 cbjective   condition




        in witch  David (Mohamed) Moyesi leave Oldtrafford at the drop of a cat
and head back to Cairo to face the music there

                 Well  .. having spent quality time with  LadyAlex (fergie)
       Egypt  seemed like a bed of roses       in all honest
                                                                                                   david moyesi ( president)     (ex)





    summer  &  Nothing

Ryde.                     Isle of Wight.
               Fed up.                                    Portsmouth-across-the-Water
    (looked)           for all the world
     like    Dubai                                                   on a   Saints'  day ,
                                      given  that  the  sun
                               was  bang   in  my   eyes               !
                                                                                                As   tears  welled,
                                                a  portly beadybeak   sidled  up to me
                                                                in  palship ,
            and,                                                                      wa(i)ving away
                                                          the  wellsack  of  a  washed-up  seal ,
          nabbed  my  scragchips         .

SKEYME NIL-NOT
               STEEMIN ONKYL                                    SONNEY   ( & NONSEY)  KLIMET
                                                        TINKLEMONEYS





                                       Summer 'n  all
  as the sun sank,
               the skimmerships       and semiPort
                                                                                      waged  pointless  struggle
                                                                                        with a  black-clad
                                                                                   whiteygirl ,
     head butted               arse ended                                                  silhouetted;
                                                        whence  I  dipped  into my pocket
                           so    I     could         consign
                                                 my last  Penny
                                                                        to  her  being  named
               ada                             and / or                                          abetted ;
                                                              (which I think he called Her.  )
   TINKLEMONEYS
                                             MONE  (  &  NEMO ) LITESKYN









as  Koilkleen ( SPRING )  cede to   SolKleen ( SUMMER )   we  bring you uptodate  with anything and everything
that  has been happenening  as far as pK  (PopeKoo-thehighKoo)  is concerned

and    at much-and-the-same-time  report  on the tragedy  witch  befall  our dearest friend and/or colleague
Ole Nitemynks,   gored by a bull when running out of   KarpetRite  ( in Pamplona)  with unpaid goods




                                                                OLE' SKIN(T)NED

  poor !Ole                                                             bullwhipped
                                             when  slipping out 
                       with    a                                                                   single-warp     redcarpet

(report by )
Leo Nitemynks




















? ! WHY

              Science take clear stance :
                                         LochNessMonster  result  from
      underwater         fault  -line                         !
  
                                       SIKMENT LOYNE / JEREMY BAMBER



IF THE STREAMOFCOSCIOUSNESS FLOW INTO LOCHOFCONSCIOUSNESS
                AND THE MONSTER   OF  LOCHOFCONSCIOUSNESS
      BEGAN LIFE AS THE MONSTER 
IN THE STREAMOFCONSCIOUSNESS                       !
IF                            ALL   OF  THIS IS              TRUE
               THEN                                                       ?  WHOTHEFUCKRU  (eh)
                                                                       WHOTHEFUCKRU        ?  !
   sien komently /  jeremyklarkson
                                                                                                                         (underwater)       

                          well, why not ?

            UK                   say   DNA  from 3
                                                ok     4    IVF     !
          Well  ?    why not


the conjoined triplets : Milo, Moli & Oli M Tenensky
                      TheTripleWhammy :  theKammerleg / Y?Not Melenski

                                                                                              the doc; doctorWho;  Dr.& Mr.spook
 







         For Susan

   On the centenary 
                of         The Rite of Spring
              I erected a  small. 
                                    garden  marquee
                                                                                on  Susan's  say-so.
          In view of my questionable
                                      D.I.?Y?,        " I erected "                     
                                                                    would usually need
                                                                                     qualification.
                        But  on this  (e)special day ,                                                                                    ( the centenary  )
               being challenged    vertically, 
                                                                              horizontally        
                                                                                                         and  up - (many) - a - blind - alley,
                     proved  to  be         
                              of  minimal significance :
                                 In that  the marquee  poles 
            - or struts -              inserted  themselves
                                                                               effortlessly  
                                                                                           into  a  concerted/conceited
                                                                                                           structure                acceptable 
                                  to   dearoldSusan ;
       for,  overriding  
                                               my manual  dexterrible ,
                                                                                          a very strong wind 
                                                                                                        was  there   blowing,
                            which seemed to guide the struts   (or poles)   
                                                into    the requisite shape;
              the  whole  thing                                                        - ? maybe -
                                              springing  magically to life
                                                                                      with  the  helping  hand(s)                              
                        of                             Igor Stravinsky.
  No matter.                                                                   As I sit
                                                         quiet                                       in that   shelter
                                                                       I  gaze    heavenly
             at    five    sheeted    quadrants
                                                                                where     insects   mobgather
                              in   celebration 
      of  Spring                                  Summer                  Autumn                                    Winter          
                                                                         and                       Spring                                            again   .
        And  thus   I wonder,                          
                                        as  I  sip  my coffee
                                                                        and  listen  intently   
                                                          to  Beethoven's  
                                                                        Pastoral  Symphony ,
                          ( I wonder)     whether   I  am   really  closer
                                                                                         to an  earwig   
                                                                                    ! ?than to  Ludwig            At which  point
                                                                                                                  - ! wouldn't you just  know  it   -               
                 down my cheek                                    roll  a tear
                                            (where )   momentarily                   a  minute  fly
                                                                                            splash                   masterful  backstroke .

LOYTENEN SKIM
                                    dunkan  GoodooG
                                       


 




june and the peacock


  Down our lane     or up
                  and seemingly unfattened
                                  but(t)     unfettered    whoop
                                         a  peacock ,                          tied  not
                                              to discoloured season                           tho'
                                                           tending  favoured       plot.
   So story unfold :
                         Fooldom  may  summon   failJune ;
                                                                                      peacock  ruff   huffcold ;
                              majesty  unfurl
                                    in flailing  feather-fed   whirl ;
                                                       still                  He   !  hath  no girl
  Whiff    !    no  If   ! !                               No   butt
                               !  No pretty hen  enticed                           spliced
                                                                         on   stiff   peacock   strut                 !?
         Now   hardened  heart   bleat
             for  sweet  bird                                   who       cometh                                      not
                                           down  our  lane            or                      street .
     And His  cry infer
                        not  just  His  own savage hurt
                but our unjust  world ,
                                                               for  Misery   breed
                                   a  formless    false - flattery.
                                                              puffed  out          chest                   mean  speech,
                  which   dost     speak  volumes :
                                 !  Oh   that    Aah !    !Aahh    peacock gnarl ;
                                                                                                         we  agree its  stem -
                                                                               like  Dot Cotton  shrill
                                                             when     stuffed   ( stockingfeetfirst   )        thro'
                                                                                                                  a  northern  sawmill..
               (oh)   ? ! But   what do they know!   ?
             ( those )   Braying  neighbours     drowned   in      waves
                                                                                    of           discomfortglow
                                                                     where peacock-whoop     stoop
                                                                  not  so  low.                       Steeped    as it be
                   in  minds   more   astute:
  Hirsute   Mr Cock
                               lip  projected  gnarl :  Rhyme ! it
                                                                              !Beat  it            Slip  ! !      Unfrock
                 Like Haiku                          He rasp
   five times                  then  seven                       then               five
                                                                                                             in  regular  tack   .
                                                       And              ass-clasped                                     a  fan
          where,     true  to  type ,                           a pin-note
                                                                               lie   :             Made ! in Japan


 
    MICHAEL FLATLEY
          MIKEL  E  SONNYT                                    john Terry-&-June
                                                                                                                                      MotsynLineke / LinekeMotsyn
              humpphreyBogart
                                                       Lady Roman of Polanski-Abramovich