More Mobioids

Presstidigitation (sic)

Paper, paper everywhere – yet not an honest word¡!
Paper, paper everywhere – just something someone heard…

Titteltattle tabloid babble minced a million trees
Global warming just ignoring – swapped their lies for leaves¡!


~oOo~

Let those with heads akin to Hubble – look for intra cosmic trouble.
Let those with sliding scales disport… discuss in boisterous intercourse.
Let those with heads of calculators, become the public mass debaters!¡
Let those that only seek to rhyme have a jolly happy time...

~oOo~

I used a wrench upon my nuts - to relax the tension,
I’d blown a gasket on the head; excessive exhaust retention?
But though my tool was moly-dual, the finest combination,
Sad to tell it’s bent to hell - from over exuberation!

~oOo~

You do not like or want the words… but what else can you say?
It may be just a sign or smile but still a word’s in play,
The only communication that we have is based upon this base,
So maybe it’s the message in them - which you will not face?

~oOo~

It maybe that all sea defence is vain… the tide will take the land again, and wrestle from poor weak mortal man, that strip of shore we call the strand, but ‘till the dawning of that fateful day, I’ll walk and watch the waves at play.


~oOo~

Iran while others coasted – a MILLION dead and no one noticed…

~oOo~


But dearest jewels are so pretentious – to gild your Lilly just tendentious,
For how could one with lowly rock – improve your beauty by one jot?

(An argument I have not had a great deal of success with but still one worth pursuing – perhaps…)

~oOo~

Funny how we think we should – go with laughter loud and good – but at the funeral of a friend we seldom joke about the end… a shame; for I’m sure that those scarce gone would rather have just joked along… but now I think no die is set – I’m going to have the last laugh yet! My epitaph will be in rhyme, finishing on a knock, knock line!


~oOo~

Durst to durst and Nash’s panache is… in the wistful hope of brilliant flashes…

~oOo~

Permanently on the net and interlinked,
Saves the need to ever think…
With words all diced and sliced and hexed,
To send in bleep-bleeps of con-text!
I’m hiding in the bush… behind a tree
Before they make it compulsory!
Terse
Turbulence in
Tantrums
Thrumming!
The omnipresent txt is coming!¡!¡

~oOo~

This thistle that sad Cecil sought,
                                        Shivs sharper than a chisel,
Breached a bone in Bridget’s bra!¡
                                        …A nearly fissile missile.

~oOo~

If lines of lambent prose were mine to weave in weeping whirls, I’d write you up a storm of heart, chatoyant emotional pearls¡! But alas I’m just a jest, a joker in the pack and weep for knave and king alike – and laugh behind their back¡!

As shallow as a shifting shade, as graceless as a grim, the mocking bird of bitter barbs… the blasphemy in hymn¡!


(I think them not quite so shallow… but then that is what every wiseacre would say… so¿?)

~oOo~