Flibbertigibbet

I am taking my theme from somebody elses blog, which is why the rash of skeleton poems. Was having a go at Minotaur on weekend. Very lame attempts.

He spewed cud into his mouth and chewed

strutted up to me on alligator appliquéd hooves

How yoou doing? Don't think I've seen you round before.

Whats say we find somewhere private and you can get to know The Minotaur?

and he hitched his belt buckle with an unnecessary twitch of muscles in his too tight shirt buttoned only half way up his chest.

No wonder he had to get that greek king to pimp for him by chucking girls into the Labyrinth.

See what I mean? Totally lame. And then the other thought that went nowhere was ...

He looked up at me with his big brown eyes from under impossible lashes as he grazed on the hay in my hand. It could never work out between us. We are too different. I shy and retiring and he a minotaur. So I will visit him and care for him. Be a friend (and hope he doesn't end up with some cow).

but wait. There is more. Cause then my mind wandered off to here ...

Mmmmmmm Minotaur. Somewhere between pork and beef with crackling. Pity there is only one of them.

and then I thought - oh god, they are terrible! Maybe I should play with the blood angel.

... and he towered over our weeping bodies
that bloody angel
stained with righteous gore
and one protested
why strike us now?
when you have not before
I was thinking of other things
it deign to reply
It is hard to see the goings on of such small things

So all in all I think it best I abandon these and have a think about caves - lol

Possibly I'd have better results if I had some sort of plan before I start to write, but all I do is find an object or phrase, find another one to go with it and then see where the rhymes take me. Maybe one sentence planned in the whole thing.

I think that is what I always like so much about Glenn Richards songs. There is a mulch of varying ideas, references and word plays buried in them.

Though admittedly the main appeal of one of my favourites Thin Captain Crackers is that he mentions vomiting so delicately. Probably he never has actually woken up by the side of the road after a session. Or perhaps he has? I’ve always felt like I missed out on a lot by not gaining a university education. Still. I would have been at the James Cook Uni if I did and my sister tells me they used to have a rapist who lept out of bushes at girls with a tomahawk, so perhaps best I did not, considering my propensity to attract lunatics.

I found out recently that the park I had been stumbling around in one night after an ill-judged amount of alcohol consumed - and which possibly I might have had a small kip in, I don't really know, I don't remember - has crocodiles.