| Author |
Message |
    
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1083
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, August 21, 2004 - 6:02 pm: | 
|
And that was a good read AP,a really good read.
Thanks Natalie |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1287
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, August 22, 2004 - 4:47 pm: |
|
Thanks Natalie
I was much struck by the weird intricacies of this Victorian period story that was popular in the theatres of the time.
Jack’s adventures start by happenstance. He bumps into a giant and kills said giant using soft technique of camouflaged trap and then blow to head.
Now Jack is a ‘Giant Killer’.
He actively seeks them out.
Slaughters two giants together. A ‘double event’. Choked them with rope and then stabbed them in the heart.
The next giant, he pretends - with trickery - to firstly disembowel himself and then causes said giant to do the same with fatal result.
At this point in the story Jack gets his invisible cloak and stabs the next giant without any formality whatsoever.
Next giant the same, invisible cloak and stabbed in the back.
Final giant is dealt with by the invisible cloak and stabbed to death.
Whatever we may think, we must accept the fact that our Jack seemed to enjoy a cloak of invisibility, and his MO does seem to match that of the giant killer Jack.
I just imagine an impressionable young Tom sat in a theatre goggle-eyed by all this and then the story going on to form part of his murderous behaviour.
I have always said that our Jack thought what he was doing was a noble thing.
He was killing giants.
Perhaps.
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 2859
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, August 23, 2004 - 12:03 pm: |
|
Hi AP
I think maybe the beanstalk angle should be mentioned, since Jack seems to be without a dad in that version, and the family are in dire financial straits.
Robert |
Aunty Gertrude
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Wednesday, September 29, 2004 - 9:36 am: |
|
Aunty Gert (Gertrude, who was actually a cousin, but very ancient) used to sing a Jack the Ripper song. No idea where she got it from, and I've put down the words as best I can remember them. As we heard it, it's a song for children, rather than a proper poem, and you do various actions to spook the kids all the way through, and something suitably scary at the end.
The Song of Jack the Ripper
Jack the Ripper's in my house,
He's hiding in my hall.
When I put the lights on,
I don't see Jack at all;
But when I go to bed at night,
And turn the lights down low,
He slips out of the shadows.
He's watching me, you know.
He lurks within the vestibule,
He waits behind a chair,
If someone comes to visit,
Jacky's never there.
But when the house is empty
And the light outside is dim,
And there's an unexpected sound,
I know it must be him.
Jack the Ripper's cunning,
Jack the Ripper's sly,
Wherever there's a shadow,
He'll wait there by and by.
He'll not go near a candle
He'll not go near a lamp
He'll lurk in darkened corners
Long and cold and rank.
He'll wait 'til I am sleeping
Then peer into my room
And silently he'll grin,
In the drab light of the moon.
His eyes are all in darkness,
A gleam shines off his knife,
Jack the Ripper wants to play
He wants to take my life.
His coat is soft with slumber,
His step is faint and light,
His blade so long and kind and sharp,
Could sever day from night.
It slices through a whisper,
And cuts the merest breath,
And glides through skin and bone and grist,
And slips from life to death.
Jack the Ripper's waiting,
A twinkle in his eye,
That half-imagined shadow,
Is Jacky passing by.
Yes, he is behind me,
Yes, he's in the room,
Yes, he hides beneath the bed,
Yes, he plans my doom.
Jack the Ripper's in my head,
He's walking through my brain,
Keeping to the darkest paths,
He's driving me insane.
He's whispering his secrets,
He's showing me his works,
His curious red necklace,
His funny little skirts.
Now Jack the Ripper's in your house,
He waits upon your stair,
Never leave your bed at night,
He'll get you; have a care!
You won't catch Saucy Jacky,
He'll slip away scot-free,
And hide down in my cellar,
Because Jack the Ripper's me!
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3120
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, September 29, 2004 - 2:11 pm: |
|
Very nice, Auntie Gert. it reminds me a little of "Shadow March" by Robert Louis Stevenson. I used to get spooked by all kinds of things, so i relate to this. Good stuff.
Robert |
Jeff Hamm
Inspector
Username: Jeffhamm
Post Number: 492
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, October 20, 2004 - 9:21 pm: |
|
Hi,
Here's a little something that could be related to JtR, at least in terms of JtR message boards! Thought it might add a giggle.
- Jeff
on trolls
if you search out there in the wild wild lands
where the rivers run cold and the trees still stand
in thick dark woods always deep in the night
it lives and it dreams and it loves to bite
so go with care walking here to there
in case a troll grabs a strand of hair
for it likes to play with string and thread
and it lives on games not butter nor bread
it’s a nasty old troll so droll and bold
whose words are dust and grim and cold
it’s worse than a snake or a hornet’s sting
and it grabs and it bites and it kicks at things
so leave it alone let it chew on bones
it will scream and call and shout and groan
for awhile and then it will fade away
for trolls can’t bite if no one plays
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3270
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, October 21, 2004 - 3:57 am: |
|
Very nice work, Jeff. And very true.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1408
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, October 21, 2004 - 1:08 pm: |
|
Yes, Jeff, I enjoyed that very much as well.
Trouble with trolls is that when they look in the mirror they see a troll so rather than look in the mirror they attempt to weave an entire world that denies the existence of trolls.
My own workload is dropping off now winter is upon us so I should get me own poesie cap back on very soon.
The troll was drool.
and quibbled
and wriggled
fiddled and riddled
with pus and sore
poor old whore
with rant and cant
he rubs his great arse
and farts another fine farce
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3274
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, October 21, 2004 - 1:20 pm: |
|
"Who goes over my bridge?"
Asked the troll's voice harsh and rough.
"Who goes over my bridge?
Is it one of the Billy Goats Gruff?
Is it a doctor, a Polish Jew
Or maybe a splendid toff?
Who goes over my bridge?"
Startled Druitt threw himself off.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3675
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, December 23, 2004 - 8:57 am: |
|
WILDERNESS
Now the world is but a husk
And the seed is barren sown
While the dank and settling dusk
Hides a wilderness of stone.
Now the woman cannot please
Though she paint herself for aye
For she sees not as he sees
Through a dark disordered eye.
"Tear it up and start again.
Tear it up, I like you not!
Tear it up and start again."
Doll is hurled from out the cot.
"Tear it up and start again.
How I hate myself for breathing!
Tear it up and start again."
Nether fire and nether teething.
All around the squalid Square
In and out the muffled lanes
Moonbeams dance upon the air
Turn to silver autumn rains.
But the moon-cursed lunatic
Gazes down on cobble stone
Marvels at his magic trick
Notches petrifying bone.
Turns and looks aloft to find
Boon companion of his feeding
Pock-marked glint of blind to blind
Measuring months of women's bleeding.
Hears a step and homeward scrambles
Leaving sad and torn up crone
Moon awaits another shambles
In a wilderness of stone.
Robert
|
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1626
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, December 23, 2004 - 1:58 pm: |
|
Enter stage right, my much missed and loved Blake, and doth seat us with molten words.
A masterpiece, Robert, a true masterpiece.
I wince with the open and raw emotion.
Must run, a date, but will return sober at some stage. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3676
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, December 23, 2004 - 4:36 pm: |
|
Many thanks for that, AP.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3677
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, December 24, 2004 - 5:48 am: |
|
LABYRINTH
Where is the labyrinth? Not in these streets
Where I thread my way 'twixt the policemen's beats,
Though life be hard and life be cheap
I walk them safely half asleep.
No,labyrinth is head of mine -
No starlit string, no ball of twine.
I stumbled in when I was small
And I did hardly feel the fall.
With each step I deeper went
And with each year I steeper bent
Until I heard the dreadful roar
Of tribute-exacting loathsome whore
Who sh*ts her spawn of gateway spit
And sends new souls head-first to the pit.
Toy sword that once was blunt
Leaped out and danced in front.
And though I kill with joyful shout
I turn to find there's no way out
For I and whore are both reborn
To tread the pain-etched path we've worn.
So round and round I go
The only home I know.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1628
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, December 24, 2004 - 4:20 pm: |
|
Robert
you are firing on all cylinders here all right!
Blimey! Brilliant stuff.
I'm almost afraid to wish you a merry Christmas, but I will!
Severely in me cups I am unable to respond, but bet your bottom dollar I will. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3678
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, December 24, 2004 - 5:06 pm: |
|
Thanks AP. We'll be doing something for the kids. Children more resilient than I am.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1630
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, December 24, 2004 - 5:32 pm: |
|
After the death
did come a hush
and in her life
was such a rush
now comes the rasp of steel
and in that rush I can feel
that all is but plunder and gold
and to die is to be but old
and the young skip by with gladdened heart
by god if I could I should rip them all apart
but they be the child of my dream
the child I was and but am
if only the rip wasn't the seam...
I am but damn
the child is the dawn
of dawn not yet born
and we must arrange the end of the day
and make sure that the child does not pay
for the sins of his father.
For the sins of his father are manifold.
(sorry, Robert, I been at the SSB) |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3679
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, December 24, 2004 - 5:54 pm: |
|
I think I understand, AP.
And for those children we be a crutch
For we do not think their walking much
And when tears flow
They lean on us so
But there'll come a day
They kick crutch away
And we be the ones who fall
PS Did you get my Wills emails?
Robert |
Adam Went
Detective Sergeant
Username: Adamw
Post Number: 67
Registered: 12-2004
| | Posted on Saturday, December 25, 2004 - 7:18 pm: |
|
Hi all,
I've always been somewhat interested in poetry, and have written plenty, but never actually posted it anywhere before. This I just typed up now, it was what just entered my head as I went along...so...don't be too harsh! (Though some comments would be nice.)
"Oh have you seen the devil?"
'Twas the year of 1888,
That Jack would bring 5 to their fate.
To his beliefs he must be true,
Turn around, and he'll get you.
'Twas in August 1888,
That Polly met her gruesome fate.
A week later, Annie was much the same,
forever being thrust into fame.
Then in September the tempers flew,
Jack the Ripper had just claimed two!
"Why is this happening, why here?",
Cried a public stricken with fear.
Jack promised, "I'll be back at work soon with my knife",
The women were told "Run for your life!".
Then for a while there was no more Jack,
Perhaps he had finally started to crack?
Then just as things started to calm down,
The Ripper learnt Mary Kelly was in town.
Poor Mary had been ripped to bits,
And the Ripper had once more bloodied his mits.
The world has not since been the same,
Often cringed at is Jack's name.
The world still debates on who he might have been,
Oh if only those poor victims could have seen!
Oh, have you seen the devil?
No, says I,
But if I ever do,
I'll bring him down to the level!
Regards,
Adam.
The Wenty-icator!
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3685
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 3:07 am: |
|
Hi Adam
Well done for taking the plunge, with a nice effort. I like poems that have "twas" in them. I always try to make mine sound like William McGonagall!
Robert |
Adam Went
Detective Sergeant
Username: Adamw
Post Number: 74
Registered: 12-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 3:54 am: |
|
Hi Robert,
Thanks for the compliment. Naturally it's a bit rusty as a proper first attempt, but I hope to improve in time.
William McGonagall? I hate when I have that feeling that I should know who he is but can't quite think of it. Can you give me a hint?
Regards,
Adam.
The Wenty-icator!
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3687
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 5:04 am: |
|
Hi Adam
William McGonagall (?sp) was a Scottish poet of the late Victorian period. He wrote some lines on the Tay Bridge disaster, and many other things. He was quite prolific, but it's generally agreed that he was just about the worst poet who ever walked the globe.
I'm going from memory here, but I think this was one of his shorter works :
The cow is a very sad creature
Nothing could be forlorner
Standing in the farmyard
With one leg at each corner.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3688
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 6:39 am: |
|
HIM AND THEM
Death strolled among them, daily death
They heard his cough and they felt his breath,
Nodded to him as he passed in the street
And saw him pull up the filthy sheet.
They found his face on the pictureless wall
And smelt him woven in pauper's shawl.
He came to them in illness and age,
In idiot chance and murderer's rage -
They saw him so often, they understood
When he had not the time to put on his hood.
They watched their step, but gave cheeky grin
And dared PC Death to run them in.
But in the end
He was no friend -
He was their landlord, and when they were spent
Threw them out for not paying their rent.
Jack knew naught of death - his curse
Was eternal fear of Something Worse.
He was the madman who feared to go mad,
The bad man who killed to stop something bad.
An endless fall, unquenchable tears...
Or just the Bogeyman pulling his ears.
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1329
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 9:34 am: |
|
Very impressive Robert!
the line "and smelt him woven in Pauper"s shawl" is superb!
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3689
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 10:02 am: |
|
Thank you Natalie. Much appreciated.
Robert |
Suzi Hanney
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 1695
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 10:45 am: |
|
Gorgeous Robert!
Happy St Stephens (!) day! x |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1632
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 12:13 pm: |
|
Yes, Robert another brilliant poem from you.
Enjoyed every last word and nuance.
It's about time I got stuck in again!
Yes, I've sent you two e-mails concerning the wills, the post master general is obviously still at the office party.
Nice to have some new talent on board, Adam.
Enjoyed it very much indeed. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3690
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2004 - 12:30 pm: |
|
Thanks folks. Nothing in my inbox. Post master general probably mailed himself to holiday destination.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3714
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, December 31, 2004 - 3:37 pm: |
|
SORRY, FRANKIE
When I was seventeen it was a very good year
It was a very good year for giggling games with girlish friends
Where childhood ends
But not the dream
When I was seventeen
When I was twenty-one it was a very good year
it was a very good year for gazing deep in baby eyes
That told no lies
But shone like suns
When I was twenty-one
But now the days grow short, it is the autumn of my years
And now i think of my dreams as one more trick and one more drink.
He doesn't blink
The chimes ring clear
It is the ending of the year.
Robert
(Message edited by Robert on December 31, 2004) |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3873
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 14, 2005 - 5:45 am: |
|
TO THE GIRLS (and with thanks to the artists)
I have no magic to soothe your pain
No thread to guide you through the maze
I don't know how to sing in the rain
Or turn to gold your wasted days
But now the knife is loving brush
And stepping back to take a view
We gaze in magic moment hush
To catch a glimpse of you
Robert |
Jane
Detective Sergeant
Username: Jcoram
Post Number: 76
Registered: 1-2005
| | Posted on Friday, January 14, 2005 - 2:01 pm: |
|
Oh wow Robert,
I've just taken 5 mins out to get my breath and I caught sight of this thread. That last one is just too good. I went totally limp. You paint with words with way we do with pictures. Made my day. Thank you so much.
very big hug
Jane
xxxxxx
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3885
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 14, 2005 - 3:06 pm: |
|
Hi Jane
Thanks for saying that.
I'd give my right arm to be a great painter, but it wouldn't do me any good....I'm right-handed. 
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1438
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 14, 2005 - 4:32 pm: |
|
Beautiful Robert,
Its good to see you pick up this thread again.
Lovely wording.
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3887
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 14, 2005 - 5:03 pm: |
|
Thanks Natalie. I'm afraid that AP and I have rather let the thread fall into desuetude of late. But then, it is hard to keep writing about the same thing.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3986
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 27, 2005 - 5:36 pm: |
|
SAFE AND SOUND
Are you getting a kick out of this
Watching us wade through blood and piss
While giving the girls an occasional kiss?
It makes no difference to me
We want to know your name and age
Our burning hunger to assuage
And just what put you in a rage
I never managed to see
You wish to shut me in a box
Stowed all safe with the shirts and socks
And when the rent man comes and knocks
You'll point to good intentions
You strive and strain to catch a sound
You kneel and listen to the ground
Then wait and wonder what you've found
It's only your inventions
You try some warm comfort to feel
To pick the lock on the court of appeal
And end the blind and bloody reel
To rest on the beds you've made
But in the dark while you're in sleep
My blankets tumbled in a heap
I'm off your alleyways to creep
With my eternal blade
Twist and turn your telescope
Wash me with your sunlight soap
Open up my head and grope
Isn't it nice to be sane?
Write it down in your report
Take your soothing sip of port
"Jack the Ripper has been caught"
But Jack just killed again....
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1532
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 27, 2005 - 6:44 pm: |
|
Very Impressive Robert!All the usual irony and insolent cursing with some of the lurid nightmarish imagery and sinister beat of the potter poems.
Glad to see you are here again!
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3990
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 28, 2005 - 3:40 am: |
|
Thanks Natalie. I meant to put "warm comfort to steal" not "feel" but there you go.
What are the potter poems? 
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1533
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 28, 2005 - 3:11 pm: |
|
The Potter Poems Robert,are those brilliant ones you wrote featuring "The Crazy Potter".See thread Jan 18th 2004----"Wheels Within Wheels".You and AP should collate them and have a book of poems and short stories for conference.These creative pieces of writing are among the most imaginative and inspired on the boards-----they need to be more in evidence!
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3995
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 28, 2005 - 4:25 pm: |
|
Thanks very much, Natalie, for those kind words. You have a better memory for what I've written than I have! AP has occasionally mentioned a book of poems, but I don't know whether this will ever happen.
I definitely think that you and Suzi and Jane ought to be getting your pictures into some sort of book form. I think I remember AP saying that colour reproduction is a bit expensive, but even so, drawings etc would look great in a book.
I strongly believe in attacking the JTR case with all the human faculties, including the artistic ones. You find that even the great scientists and mathematicians had a strong
aesthetic sense.
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1538
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 28, 2005 - 4:50 pm: |
|
Hi Robert,I sent you an email-did you get it?If you did can you reply as I am interested to know.
Regarding a book it might be difficult to reduce some of them to such very small pictures as a book would need.But between now and then maybe we will think of something.
I agree with you completely about tackling the case from all these areas.
Best Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 3996
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 28, 2005 - 5:05 pm: |
|
Hi Natalie
Yes I replied but I think it may be going via Casebook so you may not have it yet.
Basically AP is on holiday in Oz - I don't know how long for. It sounds like a fairly strict sort of holiday, i.e. no computer.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 4048
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, February 08, 2005 - 2:59 pm: |
|
WHEN JACKY PAINTED THE TOWN
Sometimes the very stones were alive
And sometimes the people were dead
He walked in a monstrous malevolent hive
Whose walls tumbled down on his head
And then the whole world went red
Really bad luck and a terrible shame
She came along just when she did
For he was the dark and she was a flame
Much better kept safely hid
And then it was time to get rid
So he who was never on, totters off
And she never up is quite down
And the dead-alive cobbles they whisper and scoff
"That person's become a mere noun"
When Jacky painted the town
Robert
|
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1572
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, February 08, 2005 - 4:03 pm: |
|
Yes Robert,
We always end up in a dangerous place with you!
Very bizarre and disconcerting!
I loved its darkness and savage humour.
Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 4049
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, February 08, 2005 - 5:09 pm: |
|
Thanks very much, Natalie. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1736
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, February 14, 2005 - 12:01 pm: |
|
Just to say that I have not forgotten the prize for last year's efforts on this creative expression thread, and have thought it wise to include all contributions to the various threads whether that be poetry, short story or art work.
Over the next few days I shall be looking at all the contributions, but if anyone has a favourite story, poem or piece of art work which they have seen on the threads that they believe is outstanding I would be more than happy to hear from them, and then use that advice in a final decision.
The prize is quite a valuable one, so please do let me know. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 4089
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, February 14, 2005 - 1:35 pm: |
|
Too late for last year, but here's a "hip hop" one.
JACK
Sticky stork of filthy feather
Dump Jack bush and curse for ever
Hole in ground the worm he hide
Jack too long and Jack too wide
Pathless garden overgrown
Jack he wander on his own
Sees the kitty kill the dove
Jack he feel a twisted love
Over fence as quick as can
Down the road and Jack a man
Hail the conquering hero, hail
Tries forget he drag a tail
Jack he only live in glass
Takes a look each time he pass
If the mirror get a crack
Twisted love come hurtling back
Men come break and glass they smash
Fall down earthwards with a crash
Men they take poor Jack away
Jack you had a busy day
Time now Jack to go to sleep
Fence this garden much too steep
Jack you small now, you can hide
Find the wormhole, sleep inside
Robert |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1737
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, February 14, 2005 - 1:42 pm: |
|
That is absolute brilliant, Robert,
Enjoyed every hip and hop of that startled ride through a young man's mind.
Very effective, and very powerful. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 4090
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, February 14, 2005 - 2:17 pm: |
|
Thanks AP. I may not be hip, but I can hop a little.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 4145
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, February 20, 2005 - 2:23 pm: |
|
REPEAT
Those women never knew at the last
Their flesh was already grooved by the past
The blood of a thousand rivers before
Was channelled and churned by gravity's law
And Jack knew not that with each thrust
His knife would go to where it must
Riding the waters, plunging blind
Fate before and Fate behind
Whenever the rivers flood
The same seed grows from the mud
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Severn
Post Number: 1614
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, February 20, 2005 - 5:21 pm: |
|
Interesting - something very chaotic and bloody here
Something wild and wierd going off in his head.
Thanks for that Robert
Natalie |
AP Wolf
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 1756
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, February 20, 2005 - 5:56 pm: |
|
Nicely done, Robert.
I think you have caught my drift?
There's still more
in that old whore.
And in that flood
that worm in bud.
Papers past and papers torn
in the shreds a son is born.
A gentle turning of that page
and then all heaven in a rage. |
