Saturday, 27 February 2010

ungood morn


A morning gone so ungood


We still have colds

Worse than yesterday

Which is annoying after 10 days

Plus the travel shop has disappeared

And the one i found after too much walking in the hot sun

Was first a pain-in-the-butt rip-off joint

And second had a powercut so have to go back for ticket

And third i cannot work out if we need US dollars to buy our Nepalese visas at the border

Every version differs

Then the bookshop we pilgrimmed too was crap


All in all, a morning gone so ungood i hesitate to sit in front of this screen

Because it seems too likely a

large fist will burst out of it and wallop me on the nose


You know that Bob Dylan line?

This telephone was ringing

It just about blew my mind

When i picked it up and said hello

This foot came through the line


That’s Bob Dylans 115th dream

My favourite Bob Dylan song

And the origin of much performance poetry

Johnny Clarke must know it very well

On the other hand

Lyrically its fairly Chuck Berry

Who i reckon is the chief origin of Bob Dylan’s verbal humour

Subterranean Homesick blues is Too Much Monkey Business on amphetamines

And Chuck Berry and Bob Dylan are where i start...


In the mean time i’m going back to a darkened room to lie on the bed so nothing bad can happen beyond the demise of the British Empire in The Last 1000 Days Of The British Empire

Which is OK, in fact good

O perfidious washington

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