things move around

houseboats or no houseboats!

“And it’s time, time,
time” the singer slurs;
a prize if you can name

the singer, or tell me why
I sing along, almost in
time, time, time.

The singer slurs. It’s
time, time, time,
he told us why

he sings like this to us,
making it seem worse,
my sly duplicity.

A well-known phrase-or-saying is “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” For fuck’s sake. Why not? What better place is there to throw stones? It’s not the same lobbing rocks around your living room / padded cell, is it? Besides, Hollywood glass is everywhere these days. Nobody’s going to get hurt. And who lives in a glass house anyway? Only those lunatics who believe their bottoms to be made of glass, and therefore fear to be seated, offending holy men and cravated MCs as they teeter through life, dreading the charging of their asses or the levelling of St Paul’s epistles at their crystal Bristols.

People in glass houses, throw your stones. Don’t listen to Nanny State or the Headmistress of Neverbeenkissedness.

People in glass houses, throw your stones.

You might get the gazebo of your dreams.

Along streets smelling of damp crushed parsely and turd, we sidle unintentionally.

James Taylor sings insidious nursery rhymes

It’s new year’s eve eve, Eve, said Adam.

Eve, disgusted, ate, shot and left.

The sky is a fat watery dumpling on my plate and I’m full up. The bricks of the houses across the road are the weak and brittle colour of drying blood. London is the duvet which you have pulled up over your head, or which has pulled you under, slowly, inch by lumpen inch.

: I am Elrond, learned in lore.

: I am Jude Law, learned in Elrond.

: I am Judge Dredd of Mega City Four. I am the law.

: I am Elrond, learned in lore. I have the gift of foresight.

: wise guy, huh?

Said God to a passing archangel or two,
“must I personally train and arrange all of you?
And what do you mean,
‘there’s no room at the inn?’
Any back-alley, boozer or manger’ll do!”

Said Michael to Gabriel, “He’s got a nerve,
and more adulation than He doth deserve:
if He’d have foreseen
the original sin,
then there wouldn’t be any need to observe

this frankly confusing ‘immaculate birth.’”
God, overhearing, said “for what it’s worth,
to divinely conceive it -
if you’ll Adam and Eve it -
is better than sex. Now get back down to earth,

and stay there until I can light My cigar -
and you’d better not screw up that wandering star!”
And archangel Mike
thought “what is He like?”
and whispered “Gabe, fancy a pint at the bar?”