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- Love As Flarfter
by
Sunday, October 10, 2010
On the left side of the quadrant
a Venezualan oil merchant shrieked:
"Foul! This nimwit is lost in a nebula
looking for a military compass." The broadsheets
in Andromeda rustled with a taciturn delight -
all the docks had been unloaded of virgins -
they were expecting no more shipments.
Wisps of patriotism surrounding the horsehead
(blanket deep in socialist bedclothes)
denoted a stray fire. Not even the cat's pyjamas
can impose comfort here; not even a walked
dog will return to this master, panting. The loyalty
of flags and appleseeds has been marked
with a distant defecation. There are no soldiers.
There are no more soldiers for these pale
fiascoes.
With apt histrionics
a man yelled through a bullhorn:
"Only the finest sex for man or woman
was a hallmark of liberty." Of course the geography
made all the difference! There were no deserts
for the open thighs. No immediate
hostages for the lips. This was all played out
beneath a bandstand on a town green near you.
Nobody was even watching.
Everybody was looking out for a cloud of those little
bastard sandflies.
The topgraphy of cream
will never be the same again. All that loose
jargon. All that throwaway language
clogging up the lactose. And you were looking
for insects when you could have been making pie or history.
Take care, keep safe, and stay beautiful,
With love and peace,
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Have missed your writings from the early days of Myspace...glad to have found you again here.
As always your writing packs a punch and demands a re-read...maybe a few times...your writing
still stellar and the content intelligently "disturbing" and thought/emotion provoking.
Thanks, Doris, both for remembering me and for coming along here to visit. I appreciate both. You'll have to drop me a line to tell me what your handle was on MySpace. I've almost forgotten everybody's user names since that time. You have a wonderful day!