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Written by D. Bond   
Sunday, 21 June 2009 00:57
drone Octave G. sea rising in waves:
old man pushes open the hatch.
long pause
{goes out in
many times
 serves tea
well -reclined, bemused, astonished... }
come birds.
g- d_
[c d eb d]
 fly home to me
drone continues 

the old man naps. his crusty crab-shaped servant Angully enters sweeping leaves.
Angully's Aria
 crooked man


there was a crooked man

who walked a crooked mile

he found a crooked sixpence

on a crooked stile


he had a crooked cat

that caught a crooked mouse

and they all lived together

in a little crooked house



one day the king came a-visiting

asking how have you been

where have your travels taken you

and what have you seen?


and then the crooked man

he smiled a crooked smile

and  pull a crooked chair up

asking ‘care to sit a while?’


the king asked about philosophy

and the ways of the world

how power truly operates

how existence is unfurled



and what do you suppose the crooked man said?

he said:


philosophy is a graveyard

sinking in the mud

labourers keep labouring

to dig the corpses up


to put them on a pedestal

and revere them with cut flowers

to worship musty mysteries

that have been dead for countless hours


all language is a nightmare

from which few can awake

your mind, dear king, is struggling

from bonds you will not break


and the bodies keep on rotting

their stench suffocates the flowers

i know nothing of philosophy

of urgency and power



i live in peace and harmony

with my sixpence and my cat

and the crooked mile i walk upon

is sufficient and all that


the king frowned and  shivered

and finished off his tea

saying ‘all your travels are useless

if you know nothing of agency



and what do you suppose the crooked man said then?

he said:



if i’ve wasted all my crooked time

and learned nothing new

i found crooked love and happiness

with the old woman in a shoe


there are so many children

no one knows what to do

so i live my crooked lifestyle

under the crooked sky of blue


and the king got in his chariot

and drove back down the crooked mile

cursing and complaining

‘that was hardly worth my while’


and so the crooked man

leaned on his crooked fence

and patted the crooked cat

he polished his crooked sixpence


thank you your majesty.

for your time and the chat

i’m feeling quite alive again

so hurry and do come back.

Last Updated on Sunday, 13 September 2009 15:44