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the organs had to mutiny
as brain had gone awry
‘it’s actions don’t bear scrutiny’
the eyes were first to cry
‘well, something doesn’t smell right’
reports ran from the nose
and though the lips remained shut tight
they’d plenty to disclose
like how brain’s lack of thinking straight
had wrecked the status quo
too weak, they felt, to bear the weight
high office did bestow
‘it don’t inspire confidence’
the spine said, round his back
‘and acting past it’s competence’
the heart joined the attack
promoted past ability
their feeling, by and large
and causing instability
who’d left the brain in charge?
‘forgetful,’ hands said, ’like a sieve
it’s time we seized control
and who has brain been sleeping with
to land the leading role?’
‘so much for meritocracy’
the throat began to shout
‘****-kissing and hypocrisy
that’s how they dole jobs out’
the kidneys cried ‘who is that *****?
he’s offal at his job!’
‘hey that’s offensive!’ said his ****
‘to every **** and ****’
these rumblings in the canteen
left appetites un-whet
‘it’s time for action’ called the spleen
his stomach got upset
‘I know it sounds hard to digest
when you’re all so annoyed
but my gut feeling’s brain’s depressed
or maybe paranoid’
with state of play in disarray
morale sailed south from low
the matters grey brought such dismay
‘the brain’, they said, ‘must go’
and so they called a meeting
and forced brain to attend
the feet said ‘no retreating -
elbows and knees, don’t bend’
the fingers typed the minutes
the backside took the chair
saying ‘brain, we’ve reached our limit
you’re broke beyond repair
once a steady moral compass
now your needle’s in a spin
and your body parts will rumpus
if your reasoning grows thin
and your constant heavy drinking
leaves your sanity suspect
and if beer does all the thinking
we’ll be forced to de-select’
they thought him sick
a lunatic
that what they said, he’d do
but they’d been tricked
failed to predict
their worst fears could come true
presumed a thorough rinsing
would leave brain hung and dried
he’d need no more convincing
but then the brain replied…
‘you think you can
control this man
with coup d’etat flim-flam?
you’ll need more than
a foolish plan
if those down there
could wear my hair
my tenure would be stopped
but jaw’s too square
the lungs? hot air
the ***** have long been dropped
the fists? no clout
the mouth? all pout
so state your nominee
to push me out
but have no doubt
this ship goes down with me
and those who boast
that they may coast
by transplant, have no hope
since there’s no posts
if overdosed
or found hung from a rope’
and so thoughts of brain’s banishment
were quick to lose their worth
they’d be under new management
and six feet of damp earth
and as his threat rang loud and clear
the fists could barely thump
the ears pretended not to hear
the ****** did a trump
the lungs felt so deflated
but wheezed back into work
his bones felt dislocated
his wrists felt like a ****
but brain’s brand of diplomacy
had quelled their malcontent
and while not how things ought to be
I hear that’s how they went.
Spoiler alert.
It’s another long one.
And there’s some fruity language in there somewhere.
Short stories in rhyme.
The X Rhymes Jun 27
first the storms clouds grew huge
keeping all the warmth out
then a constant deluge
put an end to the drought
then the moon became bold
and it kept the sun set
and the weather turned cold
as the ground became wet

it was in those damp days
came a new kind of mold
with the smell of decay
as the rot took it’s hold
on the things they had made
in the wood and the brick
fungus proudly displayed
and it made them feel sick

oily ****, black as coal
it would get on the skin
creeping into the soul
from without to within
then the great cities fell
tumbled into the sea
like the watery hell
from some old prophecy

flooding west from the east
man came to understand
as the drownings increased
that his downfall was planned
and the warnings, unheeded
let these dark waters flow
so all things were conceded
to the swift undertow

the Earth then hibernated
and lay foetal and curled
as new seeds germinated
to walk upon this world
they’d venture past the shore line
and find human remains
reminders that come would the time
when Earth would flood again
The X Rhymes Jun 26
the aliens had no queries

of the cosmos they called home

they'd given up on theories

made peace with the unknown

they hadn't always been inclined

to live with their backs turned

once they travelled space to find

what secrets could be learned

and journeyed many years of light

to understand life's birth

what made the universe work right

but landed here on Earth

and found a world built on greed

where rich folk ruled the poor

with people fending off their need

by fighting rich man wars

there evil was applauded

and truth a point of view
no mercy was awarded

good? not the thing to do

so rancid were the things we did

they went back to the stars

to remain hid 'til God forbid

we made it out that far

so fleeing in their UFOs

with lessons we'd supplied

their whereabouts kept need to know

and up there still they hide

despite our best intentions

to show a friendly face

we're the race that no one mentions

in deepest, darkest space

to knowledge their eye is now blind

since questions brought no good

a universe that spawned mankind

could not be understood.
The X Rhymes Jun 26
their world fell into silence

when the aliens evolved

they bid farewell to violence 

and problems became solved

but still they kind of miss it 

since their guns sound no more
so Earth they often visit

to get a taste of war

they listen to our children cry
while safely in the stands

and when blood flies and people die

they cheer and clap their hands
they’ve seen our wars on DVD

and streamed the whole box-set

while biding time for World War Three

but we’ve not dropped it. YET.

but final season’s coming

with posters up round town

the trailers have been running

and they’ve been counting down
to soak up all the anger
as death tolls quickly grow
they live for a cliff-hanger

and we’re their favourite show.
The X Rhymes Jun 10
just past darkest, in pre-dawn
where only ghosts belong
somnambulist stood on the lawn
in lonely morn birdsong

up high a sky of dark blue slate
and smudged by moonlit chalk
inquired why, so soon, too late
he’d judged it wise to walk

he’d missed the gold at set of sun
the cloak of night long fell
and kissed by cold, feet wet and numb
been woke under this spell

in bare feet, naked and alone
his toes caressed the grass
had rare, sweet, sacred things unknown
disposed themselves to pass?

if not then how had this occurred -
just slept-walked down the stairs?
alfresco now, from slumber stirred
and crept out unawares?

no light did switch, no latch did lift,
no dead bolt did he slide
what nightmare glitch cast him adrift
and led him on this ride?

to understand why he’d been drawn
he leaned upon the fence
and scanned the hills ahead, forlorn
but gleaned no ounce of sense

his thoughts parlayed a trick was played
a kind of waking dream
for sport that bade him walk or wade
the mind’s unconscious stream

but when coerced the mist did clear
on tracks once shaded black
how he’d traversed from there to here -
the facts cascaded back

he’d climbed in bed to get some rest
a touch before nightfall
an aching head and tight of chest
that much he could recall

he’d said “I’ll live, not really
benign, not far from norm
I’m fed up with this winter chill
but fine, on par, just warm”

then pulled the sheets ‘til tightly wrapped
to burn that fever out
but lulled from sleep, felt shoulder tapped
he turned as if to shout

a djinn or sprite was in the room
beside him, floating there
it’s skin so white it lit the gloom
supplied him quite a scare

and tall and thin, half out, half in
each limb a branch of birch
with pointy chin and wicked grin
the grim of some dark church

he couldn’t deal with that right then
so lay to face the wall
in time he’d steal a look again
or maybe not at all

“I’ll save my view from things untrue
and hocus-pocus lies
that see-through, voodoo, bug-a-boo
made by unfocussed eyes.”

since that’s the way he dealt with things
and had done all his life
downplay, delay the woes it brings
he’d shun, defer all strife

with problems near, beset by fear
he’d sit them out and wait
his steer was clear, why interfere?
commit them unto fate

you might expect fiends from beyond
that form of fevered head
won’t interject, reply, respond -
but here’s what this one said

“Why, don’t be shy, deny your eye
or will me to wink out
divert, decry, dismiss, defy
I’ll still be here, don’t doubt

concerns you spurn when trouble stirs
you never make a stand
your court adjourns, your head inters
wherever you find sand

but think on this, somnambulist
who sleeps all through his day
ignorant bliss by case dismissed
won’t keep my kiss at bay

Death, the darkest, endless black
says nigh it’s time to pay
somnambulist get off your back
or die right where you lay.”

what happened then remained occult
but hindsight left implied
the whys and whens and end result
was in the night - he’d died

a skipped heat beat, forgotten breath
then pale and stiff and cold
beneath the sheet, begotten death
the tale at last was told

unless, undressed he’d thought to rise
impressed by Death’s dark voice
duress he guessed might make him wise
if pressed with that stark choice

to Heaven’s bliss, to Hell to roast
or on Earth still to dwell
somnambulist or new born ghost?
the birthing morn would tell.
Spoiler alert:
This is a long poem.
If you don’t like long poems...
don’t read this far.
The X Rhymes May 28
Tom did not care
for space no more
that stagnant air
he’d breathed before

though stars still shone
they’d not enthral
if he’d seen one
he’d seen them all

and cooked up tight
in that tin can

a short-term let
this starman bought
turned space-cadet
to astronaut

‘there’s nothing here’
he would complain
a pioneer?
a lad insane

day in, day out
no life on Mars
just float about
with Tesla cars

lost his physique
to muscle waste
the cockpit reeked
and left a taste

it made him mind
the airtight doors
feel less inclined
to eat through straws

the flashing lights
incessant bleeps
the endless nights
the lack of sleep

and constant state
of undue stress
that added weight
to weightlessness

and so the guy
from that space show
who’d been so high
recorded low

secured his fix
but peaked too soon
a lunatic
who’d reached the moon

he yearned to see
some green outside
for gravity
to be supplied

he’d leave the sky
for birds to take
in dreams you fly
not while awake

the one-man crew
then called ‘abort’
and stepped out through
the docking port

said ‘Ground Control,
I have to roam
it’s time to stroll
I’m coming home”

then by radar
and naked eye
his falling star
lit up the sky

‘cross stratosphere
white light, white heat
his golden years
you’d think complete

but in the fuss
I heard it said
like Lazarus
he wasn’t dead

he’d left a note
words large and clear
and what he wrote

a simple plan
that gave him worth
he is the man
who fell to Earth.
It’s about a man in space getting bored. Or it’s about claustrophobia and depression. Or it’s about drug addition. Or it’s a re-telling  of Bowie’s Space Oddity. It was all of those things at one point or another.
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