black tie

The coupling of minstrels

An epitaph for an Eden long lost

And drowning in the solace of

Underserved dignity


That I look from afar and

Pray for their well-being

Matters not a jot

Changes nothing

A black tie and the taste of almonds

Spells death to those who have been poisoned


Eyes scanning the night sky

For one last time

Up there a stillborn pock marked sphere

Their terminal vista


The Moon may

Hold sway over the tide

Just, although

Mesmerism is the master of all things

Dare stare at the Sun and

In the instant before the eyelids are rendered redundant

The one of adroit virtuoso will reveal itself


For now though an angry Moon

Remains a prisoner of Empire Earth

Manifestations of its tantrum in sporadic tempests

Irksome yet hardly threatening

Presently at least

Not such a bad thing were it not for mankind,

the black tie and the taste of almonds




      1. LOL! I think, if I remember correctly, it’s about 50%. There is also a decent percent of people who, when they eat pork, say it smells like urine for some reason! (I don’t know why someone would eat it then!) LOL!

      1. Just spotted your reply – there I was trying to bring back to life some of my older characters – bored something chronic as it happens – not blogging for a few days yet thought I’d check out what the rest of the blogging people are doing and I get a single message. The right time now is 7.31pm although even as I type that is the wrong answer. Anyhow jolly good to hear from you – the wife is away visiting her druid friends at Stonehenge so I thought the writing would go well – 1000 words now in over 4 hours – not good. I didn’t even chuckle the once when writing either. This calls for red wine methinks. Have a splendid weekend young lady.

      2. A strange world we live in! The remnants of Hurricane Bertha pound away at the White Cliffs leading me to decide a cliff top stroll not a good idea today. In the absence of my wife – still doing whatever it is people do at Stonehenge – I have managed to blow up the washing machine plus all of her tall plants – the one’s the bees like but I can’t remember the names of – have blown over. A neighbour said I should have tied them yet that remark confused me. My son in the room above my small study was I thought playing sublime guitar yet tells me it is merely the synthesized working of street noises he recorded for the purposes of knocking out a bit of sound art. I asked why he just didn’t compose using his guitars as the sound he works with sounds like one whereon he looked at me blankly, sighed and went about his business leaving me with a weekends worth of washing up – don’t know how to even open the door of the dish washer and contemplate vacuuming so as not to be told off upon her return – more so that I have caused her underwear to change colour on the first batch of washing (pre the ruination of the machine). Plus for some unaccountable reason my toe hurts. So there you have it…..on with the fun!

  1. Very nice…kinda blew me away how ‘the taste of almonds’ could be used to say so much more than the four words they are. It almosts sounds like a rather nice way to go, with the taste of almonds being one’s last little bit of consciousness.

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