Grit In The Gears

The Internet Anagram Server: via Red Dirt Girl, via Princess Haiku

Grit In The Gears:-

Retreat Sighing
Eager Thirsting
Targeting Heirs
Earthing Tigers
Garter Nighties
Hat Registering
A Greeting Shirt
A Tighteners Rig
Greasing Her Tit

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i sing of Olaf glad and big. e.e.cummings

i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or

his wellbelovéd colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your fucking flag"

straightway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)

but--though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat--
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"there is some shit I will not eat"

our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died

Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too

preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.

E. E. Cummings

Hmmmm: A rarity... an e.e.cummings poem with capital letters.
-ponder on that.

Thank You Everybody

It's the middle of the night, and I'n really too tired to type, but it has to be said, I've had a great birthday, and I've laughed a lot.
Red Dirt Girl set the ball rolling here.
How she came up with so many great photos amazes me.
Steve's boots were great,
Minx's cake,,,

Oh i can't keep my eyes open.
More tomorrow
But thank you, everybody,
I'll try do a round-up tomorrow

Thank You, I've been smiling all day.

Helium Horses Revisited.

Some of you may recall the announcement by Soubriquet Labs of the July launch of our lighter-than-air horses. Here's the link.
Well, the new, improved product is now available, in show and dressage form. Racing Helium-Horses are in the development stage:- We find that short spurts of jet-aided speed may at present lead to reduced buoyancy, and so we are retuning the DNA code to get a tighter and more calibrated sphincter.
You can enquire about advance ordering, and get on the list, however.
Here is a photograph of one of our show-horses.
We recommend rather heavier shoes than the example in the picture, however, in order to avoid the 'curled-up' stance.
Lighter shoes may lead to inverted flight.

Goats and Bicycles

When I posted my doggerel about tygers and cheesecake, it contained a reference to bicycles that would seem cryptic were it read by someone who had not read:-

The Bicycle
- by Jerzy Harasymowicz

once
forgotten by tourists
a bicycle joined
a herd
of mountain goats

with its splendidly turned
silver horns
it became
their leader

with its bell
it warned them
of danger

with them
it partook
in romps
on the snow covered
glade

the bicycle
gazed from above
on people walking;
with the goats

it fought
over a goat,
with a bearded buck

it reared up at eagles
enraged
on its back wheel

it was happy
though it never
nibbled at grass

or drank
from a stream



until once
a poacher
shot it

tempted
by the silver trophy
of its horns

and then
above the Tatras was seen
against the sparkling
January sky

the angel of death erect
slowly
riding to heaven
holding the bicycle's
dead horns.

(trans. from Polish by Edmund Ordon)


This poem I found on Red Dirt Girl's now defunct poetry blog, and her own response to it follows.

"Today I was posting a poem that wasn’t my own.
About a bicycle, goats and two silver horns.
I sat at the table and started to type.
I realized: I’m wrong!
This poem has some bite!
So I tasted and chewed.
I digested and fed.
I savored and swallowed.
The juices ran red.
Now, his words, they are mine.
They float and they slumber.
They run thru my veins.
They’ve invaded my thoughts.
They live in my brain.
The bicycle image, goats, angel and snow,
I see in my dreams.
Film moving slow.
So this is my poem:
A tribute of sorts,
an ode to a bicycle
and some odd mountain goats."
08/2006 Red Dirt Girl.

Songs of Innocence and Cheesecake

Songs of Innocence and Cheesecake

Tyger, tyger eatin' light
His mum says weight is now a fright
lettuce, carrots, celery too.
Fridge light glaring in the night
O he longs for special food

What immortal cook or chef
Could lay thy lemons thick and high?
Th' house lies silent, deep, and dark
Tyger guzzles at its heart

None can see the fangs sink deep
In that confection, lemon sweet
Tyger lick-ed foil-ed plate
Not one morsel dropped-
He feeds beneath the sleeping lamb
(Unaware of's pending fate)

BUT:-
What is this?
The torch light cometh
Mum's pink slippers
Drum new tattoo on wooden stairs.
-Dawn's rich gold belights dark sky
Hide Tyger,
Hide your cheesecaked whiskers!
"It wasn't me mama, I swear-
Twas LAMB who guzzled here, the cake!"

Lamb's alarm begins to shriek
Cheesecake gone, and
Now the eggs!
Toast that burns in streaks of flame
Tyger, time ignored, to blame

As kitchen, house, and lamb's aflame
Mum's roar begins to shake the panes
Lamb's shrieks begin,
Shred curtains tattered.
Windows' glass begins to shatter

As ladders raise,
firefighters spring
Look!-the tyger's gath'ring mint,
Potatoes, rosemary, carrots peas.

Peas and carrots rise
To greet the
Innocent lamb's demise

The tyger burps, he farts and sighs
For innocence
And lambly friends
He gives to dog a piece of lamb:
"Mmmm, twas mighty good tastin',"
Says mutley, snout still lickin'.
"Is there more," he gruffs at tyger?

Tyger asks,
"First, where is lamb's fleece?
For lamb, my friend, needs not it more.
But I twould like to befriend some goats,
And for that to work....
I'll need lamb's coat."

Tyger, tyger, dressed as lamb
creeps amongst the goatish band
He cries, " Grrrr-baaaa !!"
Goats surprised aleap
Circling cycle panick'd ran
To ring his bell'd alarm

With shrilled alarm, the dreams disperse
Nightmare'd lamb cries out for nurse-
As deep beneath in kitchen heaves
Sickly tyger's groans a curse.

For tyger read the label late
Cheesecake well past sell-by date........

Songs of innocence and cheesecake
On kitchen floor
-For beneath the fridge light lies:
A phosphorous glow
Of tyger vomit

Now on tiled floor.......
Midst paw print.

a poetic verse by soubriquet
(with small'd help by rdg)

She kinda dared me to post it.

Oops... new Sisterhood Stealth Bike on Trial

via Growabrain.

Thank You

The Sisters are Seducing our Squirrels!

Our special-forces squirrels, a highly trained and dedicated branch of the Brotherhood of the Besmirched Countenance, have encountered a new hazard in their mission to monitor the actions of the Sisterhood of the Pointy Heels.
Some Sisters, failing to properly respect the squirrels' peace-keeping mission, have been tickling their nuts. And it's causing a real problem for our guys.

Pointy

Great Britain's Communities and Local Government Secretary Hazel Blears suffered a pointy heel moment this week. Of course, the paparazzi were there to document it, so Grit in the Gears could bring it to your notice.
Perhaps her government will start to take note of the poor state of London's pavements?
I doubt it.
But TOP MARKS to Hazel for her ability to laugh at her predicament.

Delicate Negociations

The Knight of the Besmirched Countenance has invited a delegation from the Sisterhood of the Pointy Heels to discuss the nature of the Bilateral Treaty of Mutual Advantage...
Kick off your shoes, ladies, make yourselves comfortable....