Wicked Rhyme

4.31am

Someones booming voice bellowed a loud speaker high within the tower block behind me. Beckoning the lost or shallow to his appropriately squalid apartment on the 19th floor with the promise of perception, sanctuary and fulfillment.  Many hypnotic zombie lookalikes heeded his scrupulous call as if mesmorized and succumbed methodically.  Sucked into his dubious den of iniquity to indulge in the proceedings prevalent. I myself attended simply to observe his questionable intentions, just to be met by a mass of wayward drones suitably satisfied with his crude creation.  A sufficient percentage of predominately white participants were seen banging their heads against any hard surfaces as if ridding themselves of their inner demons.  A kings jester, surely no more than 5 feet tall in jackboots, caked in heavy make-up, a long blonde wig and prominent beak, single handedly orchestrated overall compliance with his remorseless whip and a blossoming collection box. Manically darting about the auditorium lashing out at random at its surprised and startled inhabitants.  Their facial expressions seemed to contort the very instant his tasty whip connected their tender white flesh and their body shapes altered dramatically a split second later.  But there were no complaints, as afflicted they'd ever so slowly rotated to witness their diminutive tormentor swaying with menace less than a foot away aboard his cosmic skateboard, with cheesy grin and piercing eyes demanding their gratitude with sufficient coin and a high five not returned.   Elswhere the Predominant Svengali had successfully created false euphoria with hypnotic perfection as he stomped aloft his rostrum in perfect tempo and chanted hypnotically in a strange language, much to my annoyance, though nobody else seemed to mind.........

Hymn Or Me

Descend my friends, get on your knees
repent and I'll annoint you
dilate your inner thoughts to me
invest your meagre fortune
tis what you'd say if you were he
now praise his anniversary
Acidic comments don't digest
but ample coin speaks volumes
my motives jest, you wouldn't guess
I'd break in such a costume
tis what you'd say if you were thee
now praise his anniversary
Your aimless rota begs belief
come patronize my shrine
your implications I'll deceive
those remedies are mine
tis what you'd say if you were he
now praise his anniversary
Upon your greasy head be it
should you omit your own
such comedy in deficit
performing all alone
tis what you'd say if you were thee
now praise his anniversary
Array your voice apparantly
in dignitary encore
display your choice impeccably
amidst the levied floor
tis what you'd say if you were thee
now praise his anniversary
tis what you'd say if you were thee
now praise his anniversary
tis what you'd say if you were thee
now praise his anniversary

compromise

9.33  Saturday AM

Suddenly the lights dimmed throughout the entire tower block and an eerie apparition slithered its way across the canvass to settle on the epicenter...... ever so slowly grew in stature admidst the now complete silence and complicity, then snapped its fingers to galvanise the sedated dross from their inebriated state.   Now curiously lost and confused within this strange location and sudden lack of light and heat.  The apparition allocated an accusing finger towards the chief protaganist,  the High Priest,  now cowering behind his makeshift altar.  Many suitably narked stooges descended angry, armed with the soles of their shoes and more.  They homed into his beguiling frequency to extract bloody retribution and compensate their public humiliation and financial loss.   Realising his predicament, he hastened his escape through a nearby window, down the unforgiving fire escape.  Straight into the waiting arms of the Alternative Law Association (an underground law enforcement agency famed for administering alternative punishment) as he perspired heavily and slumped clutching his chest.  Intercepted without trial to an un-used warehouse,  beaten senseless,  tarred and feathered, then paraded through the busy town centre on a busy Saturday morning, tied to an upright beam upon an open top bus as the band played on.  A deterrent to anyone else foolish enough to even consider following his blasphemous path.

House

Those walls of black
with roof amiss
this window hath no glass in it
What evil thoughts corrupt the mind
your menacing abrupt design
These lamps don't work
That carpet's wet
in melancholy maisonette
What treachery d'you brew or blend
which sordid mass would you attend
That fire's gone out
this knob won't turn
foundation is of much concern
which murky stone did you crawl from
no image or comparison
Your toilet's coshed
it reeks a bit
dead body rots in deficit
there's something 'bout you I don't like
your presence rousted my foresight.

Funny Or What?

A serious drunk walked into a bar and, after staring for some time at the only woman seated at the bar, walked over to her and kissed her.

She jumped up and slapped him silly.

He immediately apologized and explained, "I'm sorry. I thought you were my wife. You look exactly like her."

"Why you worthless, insufferable, wretched, no good drunk!" she screamed.

"Funny," he muttered, "you even sound exactly like her."