Such a little thing that can decide lives
Upon us the great moth of time
Flashing the light from the hard campfire time
As weeping Angels creep in the dark
Plumbing thrones miss a mark
Old guitars out of tune
Bursary counting calories to the moon
Thicker than a brick
Trickier and a blink
Choose a meme
Then get chocked in the green
Ace of clubs
In the streets and on the bus
Lightning fired from hearts
Speed frothing at the mouth
Rooted in the deepest pit of the minds
My word are they crazy?
Hitting, smashing, raging
Expending dangers like apples thrown against you
One might hurt
They have hillsides full of this
Rage filled apples
Arrived by their inhumanity
Curing all down
Like helpless cattle
Nothing but rage
Till the moment they stop
Sadness then comes like a
A song dedicated to all those whom surf this sea of fonts.
Aldus font for me, out in the C
lexicon of typeface flowing at me
Bold as you like, italic if you wanna fight
Rolling on the sans, serif of the waves tonight
Choosing Caledonian waves, I’m giving into my inner Nick Cave
Swift Rockwell nights, ill watch out as Gloucester bites
Hei tonight, can we get Down in the Times, Palatino on my mind
Kind words are Atlantic, can’t help if I’m pedantic
Go into the Futura on Renault that’s bluer
We move her Webdings on the rail to Madrid, New Gothic on my Set makes a bid the Characters met –
an Ashley who writes a Script for my Dejavu Bookman in Utopia dancing to Primer tunes
Saboon lagoon we wade in Unbuntu
Dotum planning through American Scribes Industria
Charcoal can’t give you a Clearview to the typeface, I adhere to
Be sentenced, denting the nose of ticklish airs
Gum to you the sky is the only thing to reach
Opening up to you she heard your crazy cries
Wearing earrings on your branches, the company of the sun
Access the vessel in cloudscape to wounderd drops
Grasping the points on your faces infamy, you poison the growths
The sentence is completely done, denting this nose in ticklish airs
Koala, never a bear
It walks in such a decomposing manner
Casting rust on all it touches
Talking about socks and placid ties
The next day, are more of them
Happy to take on any shape you give them
Over to the jumpy hill, stinky and full of rot
Smelling at the top, rotting away
Doubt it will want to save the day
It’s a mushroom in a suit
Arrival in the way
Rid of that sanity, came
Stopping orange swirls, interpreted
Steps clang upon the asphalt, penetrating
Delivery into mouths open in shame
It Lights up the sky
Tones of green whispering flight
Face of ages past
Round like the eyes of a crab
Ocean salt taste bitter and sharp and fresh
Alarm of the count of death whose rule is unquestioned
We are all his subjects but the clock is his mistress
Every day becomes you
And one more tick before your dead
From my heart
The ice travels
Sign to mast
Is given lost knowns
We find the cold
Its beutiful desolation
In our most sacred place
The ice travels
And soon spring must come
Down on the coaster roasters roasting mostly hazardous crab like toasties.
The sinister shore sure is sinfully scurrying waves of sickly salmon.
A plastic bear is right there on the table top cropping hair and knocking the rocking chair and getting some egregious glares.
Alone at the subset of the collection of dubstep in the heave of beautiful beats. Awash in the heat of this cantaloupes jeep a flourish of a Hammond organ bleets.
Bees knees set in trees to pounce on unsuspecting flowers who rest in the bower of the shower of rain coming from a cloud so vain it looks like venisons cower.
Clocks are to chime on every rhyme and give a little ditty too, as in this land the time, the time, is given to those who have few.
Absurd it may seem that I do gleem that my land is better than reality. It’s a rugged as such to be as much as any insactifactorally quoth does the book of mirth from which we do quirth:
that’s a different verse that I has read
And find that indeed so it does seem on a mirror of a twinkle of a dragons eye in the night that is fine and the hate that’s divine and everything is equal to zero. The hero of this tale is a very small snail whose name isn’t even on page one.
The tape of gate and the mate who is late and finally demands that we are poets. Gives a present of letters from a far away settler made entirely of broken TVs. A thought does arrive that we are not surprised and do decide…
that’s just a load of lies
So on we put out hat and shout to no one in particular, that it’s a fine day on the beach and despite the presence of plastic bears and overcooked crustation and knees and bees and everything else we can see that it’s high time we got on our way please and goodbye to all you who have had the time to read. (Or listen)
Up in the lonely clouds
The air is cold ice that bites
They say it’s heaven but I can’t feel it
It’s not really that nice
No one to talk to
No one to sing
I am here forever it seems
Near the roads
Mushroom starts to grow
Birds feel their feathers
I breathe the hallowed air
Are they waiting?
Round squarely orange marble
Nothing is that
Wrong has to be it
Grey on the other side
Bags and standing
Watching the leaves
Wind blows without a breeze
Concentrated in a pulp
Reflection my mind
Clothes that don’t fit
Trucks that have bets
Obsession with hives
The fire alarm banshee cry filled the insides of the mall like molasses. Every corner of the mall reverberated with it. People all around looked in dismay at each other, all searching for the nearest exit.
“We better get out of here”
“But the dress?”
“Keep it, at least you have cloves on”
Shoeless, Devine got up and walked awkwardly with Tam out of the mall to the evacuation point in the malls car park. They had just got there when the bomb went off.
Meanwhile, at the fire station full Emergency mode was already coming about. William was sitting in FRT3 half way to Belconnen Mall when the smoke from an explosion rose tempest above the horizon blackening the sun. As he got out of the truck a second explosion made him jump. They, the bomber was making it impossible to get anywhere near the building. The first explosion had destroyed the exits, the second had made it so anyone in a car had no exit either. Four close to simultaneous explosions from the looks of it, each destroying one of the ramps, or the road near the exit, making it near impassible. This was planned terrorism with one intent, as many hostages as possible in a confined space. William took a look at the rest of the crew of FRT3 and the crew chief picked up the walkie talkie…
It was blocked. This was more calculated then he thought. There was no way to communicate with the other crews, or police, ambulance, anyone. The mobile lines would jammed with people trying to call for help or trying just to call loved ones.
“Ok, we need to set up a perimeter, no lines of communication with other crews. William get the flare gun from the back.”
They shot of a flare were they were parked, glowing hot pink in the sky, a sign for all other crews and police, ambulance, and possibly more to come to their position. They would need to takle this one as a group. There would be no single person going in and trying to solve the problem by themselves, that only happened in movies.
There would be about, 600-1000 hostages in that building, the last thing they needed was a fireman amongst them.
Punctured leaves of sound like torn pages of a archaic book swamped the acrid air in the room. Tam knew they came from the machine on her left. Little comfort came from that.
It was some kind of hospital. This knowledge was like a knife in her back. They had kept her here so long now. She could not escape.
Don’t need to tie her down, just make it so she can’t move. Drugs, spinal adjustment, anything needed to keep her from being able to move more than a centimeter or two. Today she could wiggle her neck and see her breasts and toes. They would spot this on the camera, no way this will happen again for weeks, months even. Probably by then what was left of her mussel tone will have gone.
Her toes wouldn’t move for her, but her chest slowly moved up and down.
The door behind her had opened and shut almost silently and the man had walked through. He was about to tell her how this needed to be done, how she was a danger to herself and others. Always the same lecture, why not just kill me? You have the ability, and clearly the ethical judgement to do so. No one would blame you, I am sure they would be happy not to have the bill fort care. The expense of keeping the last of my kind alive is certain to make a hole in your budget.
“Tam, we let you move your head today so you can speak to me.”
He walked behind Tam with footsteps that would make a statue shiver.
“We have a couple of questions.”
The footsteps stopped. He was besides the life support machine just out of her vision and she knew he would threaten to unplug it. Heh as if that worked anymore.
“You could make this easy.”
He gave her the carrot.
Her voice was dry and old.
“You see the moon inside me, he only finds life in a dark place”
That would make him think.
He walked one step so she could see his mask.
It was one of Bill Clinton today.
“The sun rises in the desert and bakes the land, but asks the gecko how she can find the water still.”
Good choice of words. He is learning well. This is the only thing they will let you do, better make the most of it.
“They say that god, in infinite ways, sent out a Angel to each land. Her wings melted when she hit the Earth and she could not return to the crystal city. Now she is one of us.”
He didn’t even pause.
“A cockpit for a pilot is on fire, yet freezes in the storms vast cold.”
Well played. Now for a diversion.
“In the bed of a traitor, they lay. Together they are never one, but a little ash can tell you all about it.”
It seemed like forever that he paced behind her.
“Oh the mask! Bill Clinton, very amusing.” He said eventually.
Tam waited, he would likely now ask his question. She would answer in rhyme or riddle as always.
“You are not the last of your kind, it seems. We have found five others. All have the power, though one is very clever. I think smarter than you, even.”
Tan knew that she might not be the last, but none had yet entered the garden, that meant none had their power yet. She was the only one who knew how to gain it, control it, use it. It had taken them some time to capture and sedate her. The others had to be warned, and she knew how.
Bill Clinton mask had paced seventeen times as she thought.
“you want me to help you catch them?”
Clinton stopped and came close.
“Listen careful. Meeting of moths. Fire in bluebells. Attack of the sloth. Inside the moon. Feeling a tune. They came to swoon, at the very merry tune.”
Clinton nodded and left. It would take him about 30 minutes to work out that she has just said the lyrics to a song by the band The Next Best Thing . Then he would be back in a new mask and the chemicals that made her tell the truth. Hopefully she would be able to warn them all by then.
Really it had been harder than she had expected. Taking her clothes off had always been the most difficult part. It was due to the teasing, they had called her a boy and she often couldn’t help but imagine one time she would take off her trousers and underpants to find she had become a he. She had dreams about it for a time. But also dreams about having breasts, often comically large. It was still hard, but only when undressing somewhere public, the pool, gym, and the store change room. These are all places she avoided if at all possible. Order online, swim in your own pool or when the public pool was empty and don’t go to the gym or get changed at home. Every now and again she had this urge to make sure she was the same clothes size. Then Devine ended up like this.
Half naked, crying, in a store cubical.
That was what her father had said. Cold hearted bastard, mother had divorced him when she was 2. He still somehow got visitation of her and that meant he could play his mind game on her, or her mother through her. He also called her a boy, pathetic when she cried even made her feel like he didn’t love her. But then she had made it as women he seemed proud and happy. It made as much sense as anything else in the enigma garden that was her fathers mind.
It still hurt her, those words.
How could she get out of this?
Tam was having a bad day. It wasn’t unusual for her. They came as freely as the sun and moon. It was as if they poor freely from the open wounds of the sky. So on this usually crappy day Tam had no breakfast. Walked to work from her really small apartment which she shared with her hopelessly pretty but gay housemate Steve. He always seemed happy and was getting married soon, he was moving out leaving her with the full rent for the small concrete box she called home. Then she got a call from her ex- boyfriend/stalker about some sort of money he still owed her (it was she decided a dead loss to expect it back at this stage). Then she had to open the store as her manager was late again. Finally a girl was crying in one of the cubicles.
She approached cautiously hoping she didn’t have to call security to get the door open.
More sobs but quieter.
“Hello in there. Are you alright.”
Less sobs. Then “I don’t know”
It was weak, like a kitten on it’s first day out.
“it’s ok, I am sure it will be ok.” Tam thought maybe I can talk to her for a bit, sounds like her day has been just as if not more than shitty mine. We have that in common.
“I am not a boy.”
That was unexpected. This is a real problem. Not like mine.
“ok I thought I saw you choose the blue dress, is it not fitting you?”
Best make a topic of conversation away from the topic of being or not being male.
“I haven’t tried it yet.”
“ok, ok, that’s ok. You don’t have to try it.”
“I want to.”
“ok. Thats fine. You can do that to.”
“i … I … I don’t like myself.”
“I am sure your lovely”
“why?” weak again.
“your voice is beautiful” Tam said with confidence.
Some ruffling sounds were produced. Then silence.
Devine opened the door to reveal a wet face in a sea of blue dress.
“I hope I look as pretty as I sound.” She meeped.
“You do.” Tam hugged her, it seemed appropriate.
Then the fire alarm went off.