I think I’m an Elvis duck


 

 

I think I am a duck, therefore I am a duck

I think I am not a duck, therefore I am not a duck

I think I am Elvis, therefore I am not Elvis

(The King is dead, long live The King).

I think I am the king of rock and roll,

Therefore I am not the king of rock and roll.

I think I am an Elvis duck, therefore, I am not an Elvis duck.

I am not an Elvis duck, therefore I think I am an Elvis duck.

I think I’m an Elvis duck.

Dadabot discovers music (or Ode to Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci)


 

Music jabs my mind like a red hot poker,

My wobble knees are jelly and my ears are ochre,

Stars crescendo through the sky

A thousand jangles spangle high,

My four destined walls are crumbling

Crumbling,

Everything I knew is tumbling, tumbling

Something inside me is mumbling

Giggling in disbelief

that all the while this sound exists

And no-one ever told me

The pipe could blow so woe-bely

There is someone out there singing just for me

His voice crashed through the dark places

In my mind

And set the captives free,

Scattering peas and cactus juice,

Shaking all the structures loose,

I sit in my prison,

But the walls are illusory

For someone sung me awake.

Or bit me like a writhing snake

And posion fires me up and frees me

From dead lulling beats that I knew before

Your  voice showed me the door.

pea permutations (A poem based on a line from Circus Time, by Euros Childs)


Don’t want to be the best, don’t want to be like the rest,

Don’t want to be the like the best, don’t want to be the rest,

The rest don’t want to be like the best, don’t want to be.

The rest like the best, don’t want to be, don’t want to be.

Like the best.   Rest.   Don’t want to be, don’t want to be.

Rest like the best.  Don’t want to be, don’t want to be.

Rest like the best.   Don’t want to want to be, don’t be.

Don’t rest like the best.  Don’t want to want to be.  Be.

Don’t rest.  Like the best. Don’t want to want to be.  Be.

faces come out of the rain


Here is a poem inspired by People Are Strange written by Jim Morrison, thanks Onestoppoetry for such an inspiring prompt!

When you’re strange, faces come out of the rain,

Silver stars spangle to a smooth, gleaming platinum-faced figure,

Her eyes lined with sparkling peacock feathers, emerald green.

“You’re in chains” she gloats,

To which you shudder, turn on your heel under your black umbrella,

Hug your grey mac to your caving chest

And clutch your chains tighter.

They are comfortable, yet cold.  Familiar and heavy.

Then the face appears again, droplet by droplet.

Voice like deep drowning pools, whirling,

Come with me, she says, and throws open the loft door to the sky,

Deftly pulling the same old gleaming ladder downwards, just like last time.

Infinite steps shoot upwards, and distant voices murmur down the stairs

“tough yoghurt”

And

“philosophical turnips”.

The voices seem to be hiding something.

You conclude it is the door to madness,

While you pause to avoid the dragon coming out of the bakery.

As you run away from rain-woman,

She winks a knowing pea-eye at you.

She knows exactly where to find you next time.

Or perhaps you knew where to find her.

Pea gravitas


おはよう ヨロス チャルス
ヨロスの耳の中で 豆がある
そうなんですね

Thanks to Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci fan page on facebook for translating my haiku into Japanese!  Of course I’m copying this in good faith, it could just say something like Mind the Gap or sorry I am late, my racoon has hepatitis.  Who can say ….   But I feel it lends a certain gravitas to the proceedings to have had a poem translated, and let’s face it, gravitas is what is needed on a blog called poems about peas.  I think I will go all Eddie Izzard and translate into French next.

Bonjour Euros Childs,

Vous avez un petit-pois,

dans l’oreille, je crois.