____________________________________________8th August 2010
Hello Microsoft Office!
I don’t have much luck with technology.
My IPL are notorious.
My IBD are more frequent still.
My computers are always slightly wonky…
Higgledy piggledy handmedowns.
I don’t treat them well,
I don’t defragment their disk drives,
I pick them up by their screens.
They don’t like me either.
They die at the most innapropriate times.
If I look at their screens for too long, I get angry red dots.
Close up: clusters of red snakes coiled around my eyeballs,
Scratchy, not smooth.
But from a distance…
Two perfect, little, crismson, blossoming, fuming dots.
My problems with technology
Have hampered my search for employment
Over the barren weeks since Savant.
First, I was phoneless… endlessly, helplessly phoneless.
Then fax machines decided to hate me
When I tried to nail down my insurance issues.
Then the internet, which I reserve a special hatred for,
(it rarely works well at my abode)
Turned on me,
Cruelly denying my request to transfer money
From my Britself to my Yankself.
Enough was enough.
I took matters into my own hands.
I fnally got a window of time
(and good internet signal)
And leapt through it,
Downloading a trial version of the new Microsoft Office, and well…
What a delight!
I don’t know much about software,
But what a joy…
Either I am suddenly a computer whizz (doubtful)
Or it was INSANELY EASY to use.
Maybe I was dizzy from the small hiss of released pressure,
Tiny, hard to see through the red dots,
Hard to hear over the sirens and the washing machine,
Hard to feel through the muggy, humid, rancid air at 777,
But undeniably there…
The relief of.
Just one less thing.
On a mountain of things.
To worry about.
Is this what being a grown-up is like?
‘Cause it’s fucking ‘orrible!
My vocation vacation continues….
____________________________________________21st June 2010
Big Grey Hill
We have been wooed by you, oh Hill…
For who could resist the undulating contours of your gently decaying carcass?
Speckled with gangrenous graffiti,
Pungent and ripe,
You nourish and shelter us.
Indeed, who could not be charmed by the bustling banter,
Of your lively and most unusual inhabitants?
One might be invigorated by our diligent intent,
As we scuttle about your motionless form,
Dedicated to our daily mission.
Yet… how incomprehensible our motives must seem,
Diverse and divided as we are;
Lost and Found,
Productive and Destructive.
And can one find vigor in a perverse purpose?
In the misplaced, the misguided,
Aliens even to us.
No, a crude enthusiasm cannot be enough
If it is scattered,
Warped and thwarted…
And so we must seem a grotesque invasion,
An extrinsic growth,
Surely though, as we eagerly scurry – or aimlessly blunder –
Along the smooth folds of your skin,
Tough and grey,
And scarred like elephant hide,
Creatures far greater than us would love you
(And tolerate us).
But ours is a fervent and blasphemous passion,
Our love ascends to worship.
And we revel in your generosity,
Your parasitic dwellers.