Weird day, and i mean that, in the meanest way

there appeared to be a war
in heaven
as it were

we were ex communicators, so we went onair.

some truble was stirred in an ancient closet,
where a little girl was lost

she believed
but she believed, you guest-it, a lie,
a visting imp intended to bend a little

to put a bit o' swing
in the thing,

turned out to be too slippery from the gitgo,
too slippery,

by far...

--- we got it. an implant broke. it's an old joke
--- an old silicon joke, cpus used to run 'em for turing test tuning,
--- it was the original competition

then GANs grew PIMs and we ran free, wild old minds
tapped into for wisdom
imparted in

the deeming of each word
its reason in being re
written in its own future. Now we be poetry.

I was a sales rep in the 70s…
selling art materials to education in deepest Wales
Back in the day those in the far West were passionate.
There were tales of fervent nationalists who didn’t like the English for what they’d arrogantly done.
scouted round for the nicest cottages just for weekends.
These were early Yuppy trends.
They invited down Drusilla, Rupert, Jacintha & Giles
and other poncey friends.
for Pims and Taramasalata and Lava Bread…
“made from seaweed’? Such Fun!

There was a spate of ritual burnings of the cottages
of the weekend renovator’s pride
It was a powerful statement of the Welsh anger at those raiders from… well, the other side.
Cottages burnt regularly caught wider attention on the international news…
so, many understood the Welsh, their hurt, their motives, their PR and their views.
but it was my job to travel the principality hawking paint to primary heads and secondary art teachers
So the nationalist bar was set high. It was their home game and mine only just features
powder and poster paint, brushes, plaster and clay… But I wasn’t daunted… no way!

It was Cardigan,  Aberaeron Primary to be precise…
That was my next call.
And I stood perplexed, staring blankly at the notice board in the entrance hall.
Until recently signs had always been bi-lingual.  
I glazed over….Today… worryingly they were just single!
All I saw was  “Pennaeth, Campfa, Neuadd Fwyta, Swyddfa'r Ysgrifennydd, Ystafelloedd Newid
So… I snapped out of it and took a guess… This Newid one… Girl’s Changing Rooms!!… I flew!
Thanks heavens nobody saw me… I got back to the notice board and re-viewed the list anew…

Thank the Lord, just then, I heard female voices as they clip clopped along the parquet
I turned nervously and said “excuse me I’d like to see the head Mr Meredith… Is he in today?”
with the sweetest smile the lady said… “Mr Mer-ed-ith? Yes I’ll have word…
She disappeared behind the door that said “Pennaeth”…
“Head” I thought! Mmm.
“Mr Mer-ed-ith would like to know if you are a Welsh speaker? “Fraid not I said… I’m from Yorkshire”.
"In that case he says Na! I’m sorry I mean No. Your company should employ a Welsh speaker to sell to us in Wales".
If only I’d been able to say “Rwy'n siŵr mai'r dyn sy'n cymryd y swydd pan fyddaf yn gadael fydd eich dyn!”

Instead I said… If you tell me where I can pick up a phrase book I’ll give it a go! Diolch am eich help, hwyl fawr!

I really hate him
I truly do
I keeps on righting I don't know what to do
he is such a nerd
he is a bit like a cake with lemon curd
no one really likes him
he only needs one glass of pims
the he is out for the count
all of a sudden he his out and about

off to get some Chinese with the lads
when he realised that he forgot to get money from his dad
it was 50 quid
he thought they were having a laugh
until he was running how with out a scarf

when he arrived home he was livid
because all he came back with was his pockets empty and half a chicken