Christmas list

“…all I want for Christmas is…”

Last year,
All I got for Christmas was…
A pinch of salt – for resolutions
A bottle of glue – for broken promises
A roll of paper – for cracks
A camcorder – to capture missed opportunities
A drop of milk – over which to cry
A carpet – under which to brush indiscretions
A cabinet – to hoard all mistakes
A room – for an elephant
A knife – for the back
A clothes line – for airing dirty laundry
A spectacle – for neighbours
A bridge – to burn
A road – to hell.

This year,
All I want for Christmas is…
A new lover – preferably one who doesn’t fancy my best mate.

Yapparister – December 2013

 

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Above suspicion

“Anemone of the State”

Strange times,
Nothing is above suspicion.
In South Dakota,
Even the Pasque Flower
Is considered Anemone of the State.

Yapparister – July 2013

The Secret of Spontaneous Combustion

“…and all that remained was a pile of ash, by a burnt pair of shoes on the ground…”

Young Sam was watching the news on TV,
“…man bursts into flames unexpectedly…”
the picture showed flames leap from his belly,
spontaneous combustion – on telly!

“And all that remained was a pile of ash,
by a burnt pair of shoes on the ground,
and a dangerous question we never should ask,
with an answer should never be found.”

That dangerous question nevertheless,
“Why do we spontaneously combust?”
Got Sam hard thinking to hazard a guess,
is it something we eat, do or touch?
something we drink?
something we think?
something we all can do?
something so magical,
something so tragical,
is it made-up or true?

Elastic-band Love

“it really hurts the one who won’t let go”

Love is like an elastic band
stretched between two fingers.
As it pulls apart
It really hurts the one who won’t let go.

Yapparister – May 2013
 

 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Maracas On Crackers

“…to bated breath, his baton drawn”

MARACAS ON CRACKERS

Searching for a new sound, the composer sat confused
Music was his food of love, but he couldn’t hear the muse

“A diet of music is called for!”, he thought it a bright idea,
To eat what once he would play, to taste what he needed to hear

So he ate…

Marinated guitar, baby-belles (tubular),
Triangle fritters, double bass pittas,
Haloumi harps, elbow of oboe,
Tambourine jus with violin roux,
Xylophone on the bone, flute en croute,
Trumpets on crumpets, maracas on crackers

He finished his meal with a Swiss glockenspiel,
Washed down with clarinet claret,
And baked drum sticks for percussion toothpicks,
Piano sorbet for cleansing the palette

He strode into the concert hall, to bated breath, his baton drawn,
Then let out one almighty roar, a truly original and gutsy score
A triumphant melodious malodorous,
As never composed before.

Yapparister – April 13

 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

S E ODE TO PERFECTION

SEOde to Perfection

A lonely web crawler
meta tag who suggested
he find an url friend.

The spider returned to his web
and on a page rank with fear
changed his density.

Stuffing keywords
sculpting links
tweaking his title tag,
he began his search
full of optimization.

He came across a SERPant
resting in the sandbox.

Though clearly a no follow
he felt content in her company
and wondered if it was duplicated.

Would you like to share my domain
enquired the Spider?
Impressed by his sense of algorithm
the SERPant url agreed
to anchor herself to him.

The content spider and friendly url
lived ♯happilyeverafter.

Yapparister – April 13

 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

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