I SAID

I SAID
I punched a goat.
I punched it in the throat. I punched it then wrote
"I punched a goat"
on the wall near your moat.
on the way home from the moat I saw a stoat, I said
"I punched a goat". I cleared my throat
and then said again to the stoat
"I punched a goat"
the stoat said nothing so I punched it in it's throat
I punched it then wrote
"I punched a stoat" on a nearby boat.
It's probably your boat, now that I think of it, I mean it's moored by your moat so it must be your boat.
Shit, was that your stoat ?
I know it wasn't your goat, because I think someone punched it in the throat. I saw your goat, Derek, and he was fine.
I'm planning to punch that goat again, but I'm building a wooden puncher so I can punch that goat by remote.
Punch it in it's stupid throat.
I hate that goat.

Maria

Maria sat on that old wooden chair.
Faint smile on her pale face.
The sun trickling through the cracked and broken skylight, warming

the stage.

-reciting-
Maria had died on a Tuesday, not long after two fifty two,
She haunted these boards on each Wednesday,
she sat center stage in plain view.
Maria had sung quite badly in life, and in death,

not much had improved

People who lived near the venue, had grown accustomed to it

or had moved.

She sat there on this day, the mid of the week,
She sat and she hummed and the floorboards they creaked
Alone where she sat, just there center stage,
surrounded by lights, this, her nec-rot-icular cage

She hummed and she smiled and she pleasantly waited
Until evening came and the moon rose and plated

the drapes of the stage with a platinum glow

and the ripples of fake plastic water below

When midnight arrived she stood with closed eyes
she stood and started to melodize
the song she had sung when her life had diminished
she continued on ... but again never finished

When she started to sing a particular tone
the boards and the bars shook and rattled like bone
the chair she up stood on, it rocked and it jiggled

as her tone broke and crimpled

the chair bowed and wiggled

She fell once again

She fell like she had
She fell to her death
Death in death's not so bad.

It doesn't hurt and it doesn't ache
It simply compounds the down turns life takes

It doesn't do much else except stop the show
It serves to remind her what you and I know

That life is a temporal, treasurey thing

That standing on chairs when you can't even sing

is not exactly the best way to go, but better to

pass doing what you love and on show

it was good for Maria to recede life mid flow
and not to grow old and grow bitter.

y'know?.

NORWAY

Beskytte HusetWhere Blonded Giants Protect your Housens.

don't TRUST seven10

My name is Fillip. I own a small part of grass on the left side of a
cobbledey stone wall here in Beanlandland.
Seven10 owns the grass on the other side of the wall.
We don't talk much, we never have ...

I've never really liked the way he moves.

plus my dog, cartoon, thinks he smells all wrong too.

Today he asked me over to his grass to chat ...I didn't think much of it, maybe he just wanted to end the
distance between us.
Maybe he wonders about my grass sometimes.
So here I am, on his side of the wall here.
It's nice on this side, just different really.
What's that knifey thing behind his back.
Oh, perhaps this is a trap here.
What should I Do, Children ?

.....

She's got a great personality

... that's what they told him ... He hoped that meant she had
the whole package, but traditionally we know it usually means 'other'.
Balloon head, about to have yet another below par blind date,
took a deep breath ...
As he came around the corner he saw her crossing the road."ah fuc..."
munter.
"... nice balloobies though." He thought.

the dread Hamstropolis

Ted thought he could just walk in and save the princess.
The hamsters had grown stronger and smarter than he had ever
thought possible.
Was this to be his doom ?
Was this the end of Ted Handlemanner ?
One thing though, one thing remained to his advantage ...
He shared a glance, a moment with the green one ...
perhaps his kindness to her when she was his pet years before ...
did she remember him?
was there compassion left in those peepers ?

tuesday. twenty to midnight. 7th floor.

Boyce had gone to get some beans more than four hours ago.
As he pushed the door open, Trevin was overcome with the
reality of his fear ... there he lay, his husband and best friend.

Boyce.

Dead.
By the beans.

Beside the beans I mean, not by the beans.

By the beans.
..... the 7th floor had struck again.

teaser monkey

all the little critters loved a smiley faced lolli.
monkey knew this and would hang dangle and tease them.
hang dangle from what seemed to be a nothing place.

previously that day ...

Mr. beaksley had returned to his nest to find a curious cold egg.Upon further inspection there was an inscription which read
"don't touch this, right.
For if you do you will live forever"
------- followed by some smaller inscripticle writing which he didn't bother reading.
he should have though, as it read thusly ....
"for him such touches this shall be like the stone.
You know, cold an' that."
"Oh, and frozen for all time, like."and furthermore it went on ....
"it's like a curse isn'it."

he was a perfect cat

Having now figured out 'butter-based' hoveronomy,
Dennis was now the perfect cat.
THE Mongleganger supreme.
It's a pity that poor little mr. beaksley didn't see it that way.