Upon an face of melted wax from hands bereft of skill, and lax was placed an tuber from the holy city what did he think? 'twas game and witty? and either side this shambolic start (an travesty to choke the heart) were set two orbs whose sizes vary their gaze maliciously contrary Then sat atop this head of shame - a blaze to mock the brightest flame Was built as an raging spitting pyre With consequences cruel and dyre and hanging from misshapen tallow a misrigged henge bent and sallow as pagan as an hot cross bun ungodly as all those who bum? should we string them up as well? forgive me if on this I dwell 'tis a subject on which thought do fall lynch or line against the wall their rosy shining glistening globes how could one think of camels toes? a line of inviting asteroidea oh good Christ I've gone to far please excuse my rash confession no mortal sentence pass on my transgression death denounced this day don't string me up because I'm gay To set this thing into the world with aches and pains as yet unfurled could ominprescient fail so balefully t'was't done with disregard, alefully? The years as tot were tense & fraught a single soul to love was sought yet perfect flames ran in revulsion peeked through spires with dread compulsion In time the dismal dripping cast left little Lucifer's unaghast point and poke with ink smudged finger waxy imprints befoul and linger The only saving grace it seems was out upon the field of dreams white hot dribbler when pushed and harried yet still no love though 'team he carried and out upon the ways and means did matters sway to less obscene? oh no my friend the sun would cower betwixt such dreaded thatch look dour did t'bottle keep the flames at bay? alas! more drunk than Jesus on Sunday but none would line up, take the host did ne'r get past the starting post t'was't any wonder sparks would leap that wax would grow devour and creep into a shape none dare ignore in case it mark their furniture coasters now in short supply all hell let loose - sideboards fry even aunty Joan did flicker to chat and scones with the vicar. Constabulary with their batons raised could never be more highly praised than when stamping an most appropriate seal all thanks I think, to Mr Peel! better battered than a Scottish mars was't meant to be? behind cold bars? from all a vicious sentence sort for a crime of this import the pickled judge withered and callous summing up with bile and malice as if to mock his Bentlys swing brought forth that sentence once again but as the wick-ed one does dangly luminosity waning, body gangly up steps a pilgrim of forest fame with aim most true he hits his game "Stop the choke there'll be no tie burn" Sir Nigel of the Clough with great concern "This henge could help our Gods eleven mass save his soul, make fit for heaven" saved from a Ketch up good and proper by the squad of god, my what honour rescued from an awful plight could it be they see the light? that shineth from gallows gait-ity an glowing ring of deity? could the dreaded melting behaviour herald a new and gleaming saviour? but first to work, to form, and lose to make a mould that god could choose and from the melting pot to last no re light now the die is cast then bathed within in an antonym - of mythic pit, home of sin the fire is tamed hurrah! rebirth a face now full of love and mirth thinking on events in t'nave thanking dear Jesus for all he gave shinning like an paladin mighty weapon safe within. remembering the spires of yore gladness pouring to the fore in Jesus was an loving aumbry Gazing on gods house with love to see the cherubim on high in apse peaking at Madonna's flaps seemed a sight to relish, mimic? could one hope to be beatific yet beating is forbid in hymn to spill ones seed t'would be a syn drome of the cindered path the only cure an holy bath. The bathings of Father Shankeley spelt love and faith out frankeley yet secrets lay behind this vicar that may impinge 'pon, rebirth a flicker and after kirk an lawn tea party I'm 'fraid to say shoots grew not hearty young flowers not yet even green that's right a pre-vert kind of scene! arms longer than the usual soul with predilections of a troll our father weren't in heaven till angelic boys had drunk their fill every night he picked a bunch sometimes even one at lunch! and if at break he'd failed to munch he'd do some pruning work at brunch what to be done with such a rouge though does't seem green fingers are in vogue throughout our lords quite brethren though reasons for't I'll no ken the new forged steel 'twas the solution to rid the grass of this pollution the fieriness 'twas't ever missed shears and tears t'horticulturist 'Pon news of this harvest abomination this befouling of good gods creation the holy church of Santa claws got down to pray upon all four THE HOLY SEE'S DESIRE WILL BE TO MEET THE POPE IN ROME THIS SATURDAY TO SOLVE THIS CHURCHWIDE COMPLICATION "did he leave pictorial compilation?" Hearing of our knights great deeds The pope, in Rome, thusly decrees this weapon of the lord be a saint and rid the cloth its greenest taint But Hark a sound to strike fear thru men the heavens roar the second coming riding a ducati of brightest gold our great lord Jesus, in tones that scold "this my dears is that famous old clouty sent down here to be wild and fruity yet you have turned his lament, his evil claim into a song that's void, of paean. I shall require the freshest start to bring to order, for each a part the news of my second visitation shall give earth great exaltation. So imagine please the great affront when Jesus added "I want to hunt the salty steaming molten tofu - the thicker the better. I like to chew So get thy behind me Satan it one hundred score that I've been a waitin it was my darling Luke that got it right now don't be rough I'll give no fight" You've shafted me enough, good Christ is it Sunday? you must be pised I am not yet this day sixteen and thus not ready for a ream So what of our white knight of Rome is't true "Do Good's deeds live on? No, Evil's deeds do, O God." Christ wins again the awful sod ---------======Doylum======--------- I would like to enter my poem into the Tintagiles speed writting compamatition It only took me 824 days 23 hours, 1 minute and twenty seven seconds to write. Please tret it right its only young Copyright 1969 ==Doylum enterprises ltd