Sunday, 11 June 2023
Wooden man

X-ray-ted
The X-ray machine was broken
They scanned his body
But nobody had spoken
And no one saw the flash
But they suspect the skeleton stole the negative
Someone saw a whitebone stuck out
Leaving the door
The heel bone
Somehow the machine jammed
And his bones got left on the photograph
The man stepped out - the flesh man part
And said - I feel weak at the knees
Then he collapsed into a heap of skin and muscle
That will take some explaining
Thought the radiographer
Call in the cleaner she will have to hustle
Then the matron who was keeping an eye on the place
Peered around the corner
And saw the skeleton
wandering down the corridor
Looking a bit sheepish
It's the first time they've let him out,
Observed one old patient from his bed
Looks a bit unsteady on his feet - said another woman
Sure they should have given him a frame at least
Come on on young fellow
And a buxom dinner lady guided the skeleton
Into the canteen, would you look at you
There's not an ounce of meat on you
Lets get you well fed
You look like you need a good dinner
Meanwhile back in the X-ray Department
The Radiographer said to the cleaner
"Put that man on ice!"
Right away Dr, which ice might that be?
Don't you dr me, I'm not your medicine woman
I'm a physicist I work with the real, the here and now
Time and matter, and right now Time matters!
Is it of an essence Doctor?
Yes shirely, it surely is, if we don't cryogenically freeze
This man's vital organs, muscle and skin tones
There will be nothing but mush left
To reattach to his bones
To the emergency heart transplant room now
And talk to the surgeon
They surely must have a theatrical solution
So they rushed the man's remains
In the cleaners mop bucket
All along the corridors of power
up until well they thought
Fuck it!
Let's go in here - the ice room
And this was the winter palace where
They hung up the skins of those patients
Unfortunate enough to have missed their insides
And also the insides which were missing their skins
Eyeball missing their lids
And even some frozen parents who were missing their kids
And were put on ice until their kidnapped children
Had again been tracked down
The British government believe it stopped them worrying so much
Which of course it did
And so they hung up this man in there to freeze dry
Right now that's done and dusted let's track down his old bones
They must be walking around somewhere!?
Another nurse comes out Doctor, doctor!
Don't call me that I'm a radiographer, call me Mrs X
Alright Mrs X, well Mr Ray has gone missing from your department
Oh no, not another one!
Who on earth turned that X-ray machine back on?
I told them it was faulty, I told them it was flawed
But would they fix it would they ever?
They told me I was bored
And had too much time doing nothing in the day
Just twiddling my poor thumbs
Waiting for an X-ray
Well it came
Like bolt from the blue end of the spectrum
Like lightening from the Gods, in Ultraviolet detection
It was Infra-dig and Infra-red and they might have called it a day
But instead they called me Doris X and my machine Mr Ray
It should have been Mr Ree you see they say, because noone 'ere knows how it works
But I do you see I got a degree
In Nuclear Magnetoscopy - I can spin the particles
And weave them waves and caused a knitting thread
To ball up inside your head
I can Tell an MMR machine from a catscan
And I can PET a man and call him a dog
I can read your palms like I read your bones
You it's all written in the stars
and in the sticks and stones
So it doesn't matter what you call it
Just as long as you say
I am Mrs X and I'm married to Mr Ray
There can only be one explanation for why it did go wrong
And that must have been when that Mrs Jones brought in his little son
And he didn't want to have the X-ray unless he had his Ted
So he brought poor Ted in there with him
And poor Ted wasn't hidden behind any lead
So I think he got a blast full-force of a dose of ray
And now he is X-ray-ted and he has been on his way
I saw him fly down the corridor,
Surely more super than any Teddy before
this Super ted
Clapping hands and smiling to all the patients poor
Oh surely this must be the reason
Why Mr Ray has lost Mojo for sure
We must find and trap this Superteddy
Before he does unknown damage
Oh come my little pretty -
Do you mean me Dr?
Yes of course I mean you Shirely,
And don't call me Doctor!
I am Mrs X, with my mean and perhaps dualistic X-ray machine Mr Ray
I won't let them take you away from me my love
It is lucky you are mobile on four wheels
We can just disguise you as a trolley and wheel you out of here
Shirely you can be the dead body ok!
Anything you say Doctor, I can do a good impersonation of a corpse
Of course you can Shirely of course you can!
Right next stop the morgue and from there to the outside car park where we will load
Mr Ray into my van.
Super-ted you won't escape my clutches now ah haha ha ha ...ha!

My Directory of Bleeding Hearts
She sits in her bed waiting for the cold
To touch her leg
The cold is her Mr Man
The only one she invites to warm her egg
And he comes also
When the dawn is breaking
And half herself is in the other world
And the other is still clawing
To make it up with you
And on the shore
The waves are crashing onto the land
The flooding waves
Are stretching their ringed fingers
Deep into the sand
Losing their precious jewels and
Moonstones Somewhere only
Time and God understand
As we walk our feet
Along the shore
leaving footprints
In the sand
The cymbals clash
The drums beat
The thunderstorm
echoes down the street
People hide indoors
But one goes out to meet
The rain
Tap dancing soles
Diamond feet
She splashes up the puddles vein
Like arteries of falling rain
She follows up the steep hillside
And as she goes she slip slides
Oh always pain, this pain inside
This mortal frame where we reside
Can we cut out a hole for our soul
Can we let it bleed without control?
Can she escape? Can truly I
Rise above mistakes
Like a cloud in the sky
But I am a fake, just a model guy
I stand by the lake watch my hopes fly
Like geese, like bleeding hearts
Forever sewn-flown into the sky
I remember the pattern
How I was sewn into you
My patchwork heart
Your needle and thread
Pulling the pieces together
I thought were dead
Making the quilt
We will lie under in bed
Free from faking guilt
Just the roll of thunder instead
My cotton wool eyes
In the blue, blue skies
Sometimes the verdant green
Of all the islands we have seen
Sometimes vermilion of the dark valley
The villainy of passion
The 3 am street or alley
The yellow of a tram
That we speak on
Conversations of nonsense
Let you know who I am
The silver grey of rails
That run across this land
That neither of us can escape from
The train wreck, rubber neck
Tin pan alley man

The bite of remorse
The con climbed over the wall
He scaled the razors and barbs
And miraculously those little sabours
Left his flesh unharmed
The he ran with the spirit of a rabbit
Darting the spot lighted eye
The search the perimeter horizon
He was determined that he would not die
Next after swimming the short moat
He found himself in the cemetry
At least when they measured his pulse
They'd note no unusual telemetry
So not to be down beat, he let his heart and feet
Rest a while
And the hint of a smile
Began to creep across his face
This graveyard was a god send, the peace and quiet
Ensured he'd be undisturbed for at least another few hours
Except then he remember, tomorrow was the Day of the dead
There would be women bearing flowers
And men bowing their heads
At least for now he could rest in peace
Or at least that's what the tombstones said
He was overcome by tiredness and drifted into sleep
The veil of the other world opened up
And in his dreams he could peep
He saw the ghosts of his loved ones
Uncles aunts and cousins
And then he noticed something stirring in the bushes
But he was paralysed by sleep's soft bosoms
Suddenly a twig snapped
And he was jolted awake
Wide-eyed and blinking
He surveyed his surroundings
and it was all he could do to stop thinking:
Someone is watching me!
..Or something...
Nothing moved, and the night was still
But then a scurry a movement quick as a flash behind a grave stone
And then again it popped out two furry ears
And his nerves were allayed
Just a rabbit he softly spoke
And all tension left him as he got the joke
The lucky rabbit's foot, he remembered in his pocket
And rubbed it for good luck
Somebody up there must still love me
But as he looked up searching the night sky
Through the branches of the lime tree
He seemed to see two green jewels starring back at him
Unlike any stars he'd witnessed before
Then the realization dawned
Oh God a figure in the branches above
But it was too late
It, whatever 'it' was
Had swooped down upon him
And its superhuman strength had wrestled Joseph to the ground
It seemed a swirl
It was over in a flash
The creature had sunk its long fangs
Into his neck and was drinking his blood
Joseph began to feel weak
As his strength was leaving him
But it was beyond him to speak

Greed nation
I think we're turning German
In our cars, in our cars
Shaped like pandas and podgy rabbits
We race around like contented Chinese men
We have the veneer of China,
You are what you consume
After all in the technology, the
blatant and obvious over consumerism
Because what else is there to do in a vacuous life
But grow fat
Body building
And mechanizing ourselves
Just the rich grow richer
The poor stay where they are
Watching the fat cats driving their cars

Walking to Wedmore
Walking to Wedmore on a Sunny
Sunday morning
And the path is like a limosine that just runs on
And the river's like a swimmer's scene which lies in blatant sun
And the blackthorn flower, white as any nun
And Hawthorn stands in towers of the Chaffinch song
As primrose's sun's powers pray to all
And ferns are like the hallowed specks that drip and drop
I'm walking into Wedmore on a beautiful sunny morn
This is how the song goes, the song goes on and on, the song goes on and on
The fields lay so beautiful around the lightning swan
And the sun goes climbing skyward as the song is sung
Walking into Wedmore the sun shines on and on
Beautiful sunny flowers on the road to marathon
And it keeps on going on

American Frontier
West of the Mississippi
"historians sometimes define the American West as lands west of the 98th meridian or 98° west longitude," and that other definitions of the region "include all lands west of the Mississippi or Missouri rivers
On Mars the say the
boosterism
sobriquet
noun [ C ] formal (also soubriquet)
UK /ˈsəʊ.brɪ.keɪ/ US /ˈsoʊ.brə.keɪ/
a name given to someone or something that is not their or its real or official name:
These charms have earned the television show's host the sobriquet "the thinking woman's heartthrob".
Synonyms
moniker humorousnickname
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Postal_Service
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Land_Office
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Quincy_Adams
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westward_Expansion_Trails
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Jesup
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jefferson_Davis
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Jacob_Astor
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_C._Fr%C3%A9mont
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_River_(Colorado_River_tributary)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_Pass_(Wyoming)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mountain_man
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedediah_Smith
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Texas_Jack_Omohundro
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Glass
