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Is my old city geting to you gamble?
TS Eliot saw its Dantesque qualities – I imagine in a smog.
"Eructation of unhealthy souls
Into the faded air, the torpid
Driven on the wind that sweeps the gloomy hills of London,
Hampstead and Clerkenwell, Campden and Putney,
Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate. Not here
Not here the darkness, in this twittering world.Descend lower, descend only
Into the world of perpetual solitude,
World not world, but that which is not world,
Internal darkness, deprivation
And destitution of all property,
Desiccation of the world of sense,
Evacuation of the world of fancy,
Inoperancy of the world of spirit;
This is the one way, and the other
Is the same, not in movement
But abstention from movement; while the world moves
In appetency, on its metalled ways
Of time past and time future."Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
Good to hear you again, gamble.
I’m getting worried, I think I understand a couple of gamble’s recent offerings!
Rob
Rob
I was just thinking the same although I am not sure about the TS Elliott bit
"Desiccation of the world of sense"
I take it this isn’t about coconuts ??
To put TS Eliot in context, I think Louis MacNeice spoke for a weary nation (apart from me and presumably prufrock) when he pointed out that he’s an anagram of Toilets.
Eructation hmm not in my world
Putney is a heath and Clerkenwell no hill
but reality is the hardest metal
and to swallow, yo the uneasiest pillTooting maybe a brief explanation
might be in order
And the place with the greatest
name and very common
is untrod by yeats or litrerary giants,
and possibly you might too right the ting.I would like to welcome Mycean Princess
a lady of sixty
posts
and a youngster in here …
this chittering worldI am sipping a crone as I speak
a cold one that is going down easier enough
but some things I have read above
have stuck somewhat in the gullet
and I intend to make some
flash final comment on them
possibly after the master of the universe
has concluded his imperfect search
on the crouching menace –
on black monday
all mondays are black !
choke that down.I will next address the moderation of these houses…
the eye
enters the time capsule
with some care of its potential
twists the dial a full turn
to memories of moderation
and suddenly a large
wagging finger appears
on its end is Pewter
in Enoch Powell
oratory form…Pewter’s rivers of drudge speech
makes the eye roll a little
in reflective moistness.
A long long time ago of course.
Ahhh yes let us return there
for a brief moment in time.The speech was so beautifully turned – no-nonsense,
hard-hitting, dramatically-fused -(replete with dash)
and so full of committment
it almost burst on the vowels
as it whipped up all the old principles
that were essential and dear to him and
represented in his eye
the cornerstone and kidney
of the truffle movement
the old daylight order.He hated the emergence of new kids on the block
who had somewhow gained entry to the established order.
Of course in cyber, passports were then
and still are two a penny.
Daylight made it harder for the the drudges
by the introduction of strict new rules
All new entrants had to have an address
and a postcode
so the drudges tried the knockers
-not at all easy when you are a drudge.Any room at the Inn ?
We don’t take drudges – goodnight !The drudge hijackers did manage to get in though
and at the top of their
ranks gamble and balance both
fresh from lewd excursions on big betty
organised word rambles that went
much further into the bushes
than had ever been seen before
on any previous truffle excursion.
A special cake was baked
which shocked the established order to the roots,
and Pewter’s hair went a darker orange
and he was so suddenly full of pip and pith.
and his rant broke forth
and thereafter
he put his finger up in defiance,
– left hand not right –
then loped off into the dark
– direction Mersey.the eye thinks a little
and reflects on little things
with little meaningSimon your lone laughter
encourages me to throw
some more spag hetti
and finsih off the craven image
of Pewter the jug so full of ire.I would agree that monitoring
is sadly essential,
and of the monitoring men
there can be little argument
the list reads like a who’s who,
but no, it is the cocked camera statements,
the presence of that dreaded thing,
the censor, that lurks beneath us
in the deep,
that ever watchful panel of looks
that most disturbs the eye’s peace
in this little sublime backwater
which bubbles with mostly innocent truffle babble,
but whose banks record scratchings of desperation
and extreme anxietyAs for our muted selves
might we not well ask
are we not but fattened bloaters
or pipe and slipper fish ?
such is the distinct lack of our gusto
and subdued gunshot.
And as for the panel
it is not who they are, or what they do,
but their unholy peering and highlighted presence
at the very top of this house that offendsPrewter committed an unforgivable crime
the fifth commandment states
though shalt not detroy thy art.
He removed all his recent postings
in a fit of jugged pique
before giving us his finger in
one final act of rude defianceNo problems at all with Pewter
he casued a lot of waves in here
but he was on balance a force for good
and I fully respect his past contributiions.
He knew a lot about backs too
so he was not a man of just words
he had a spine.eyesore
My last blink
was a little perverse
and on the furious wash cycle.Damn the controlling eyes
you cant even flush without worrying.
Bring back
the green pastures
the lazy days
the fat pigs
the happy muckFat pig signing in!
For those of you who can bring yourself to buy a Guardian there is a very nice booklet of Mr Toilet’s poems free inside every copy today. You can see where Prufrock got his name and other delicacies.
Ah yes the pig
you were one
I felt it changed you
for the better
it released the animal in you.This might be the time
to clamp your lost snout
think of an apple
and resist any reply
Hmmm had a day of idle
house reading today
have also contributed
but do feel a rather dull reporter
with my nose to the screen
and out of touch
as the world spins
that bit faster.I appreciate Cormack
you bringing me back.
I am not going exactly
but have huge demands
the next few months and
will have to cut down on
the splash in spaghetti.gamble has been a bit of a handful
but would like to thank particularly
graysonscolumn and seabird
for their thoughts on the odd.
Andrew Hughes spoke of spontaneity
and this is very true,
but it is house unfriendly method
against the grain
and there are paybacks.I missed all the voting this year
for best forumite.
Graysonscolumn was indeed a worthy winner
and I did him little enough justice
as he has far more talents than
the parrying he does so ably.
Is anyone recording these contests ?
Who in fact held the titles since their inception.Grasshoppper just beat
AP last year. Am I right – or was it the lost Wit who won ?
Was it Hopper the year before?
Before that it was Cormack
and before Ian Davies.
But who held the titles before,
or were there any ?Needleman was a competition
I held that created a lot of interest
and 73 votes showed just how strong the participation
was back then.
Also 100 postings were recorded in the first sixteen hours.
Davies and Kotijket tied with 21 votes
then Kotijket laid claim to 2 further votes
after the result was called and wore
people down with the fact he had won it.Buroughhill won big mother
a rather crude contest
with mud wrestling.
I reluctantly hit the baby
and tailed in fourth.I have written of a darker side
that contributed to my absence.
It still wrankles and although I
turn it over in my head I am
not at liberty to write about it now.
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