caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)
(This poem is brought to you courtesy of one too many forage enthusiasts being Wrong on the Internet about the merits of nomming on random bits of black nightshade, which totally hasn't killed them yet - how do you like them beans, Mr Fancypants So-Called Expert!?!?)

Nature's Bounty

The food we find in hedge and ditch
Is not to everybody's taste -
But still, it forms a treasure which
The Wise will hardly want to waste!

If okra you cannot afford
But mucilage be your delight,
The common mallow, much ignored,
Boils down to slime, so that's alright!

Or if the nectar of the vine
Is something that you've lately missed,
The daisy makes a kind of wine,
And that will also get you pissed.

Ah! Now the daisies drown your brain,
And mallow lubricates your guts,
On Nature's aid you call again!
(I'm sure I heard you cry out, "Nuts!")

So why's a Wimpy in my hand?
Because it's natural, right and good -
And this the Wise will understand,
'Cos I just found it in the wood!

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)
(This actually, or at least oneirically, happened the other week. No sheep were harmed in the production of these Zs. May contain traces of poetic licence.)

And Dream of Sheep

I swam to surface, from the deep
And dodgy currents of a dream
Which I fell into, counting sheep
To rustle later by the gleam
Of moonlight on the haunted moor...
(The honest count was such a bore!)

...I dreamed my mafiosi kin
Had come to sponge a sandwich lunch.
They plotted sheep-related sin
While we spread peanut butter crunch
And whetted knives to carve the beef,
AND NOT A PATRONIZING THIEF

Who kept distracting me from what
I absolutely had to do -
To write a fairy-story, that
Would necessarily come true,
And overthrow the Government,
And crown a King who wasn't bent.

I wrote it up between the beers
And sandwiches. The sequel came,
And so I joined the mutineers
Who rose in the Republic's name!
I would have left it there and then,
But I'd already sold Book Ten...

...To daybreak's edge across the moor
I ran from fifty feral lords
Who wished to dunk me in my gore -
MY CLOCK CUT IN BEFORE THEIR SWORDS!

Since this has come of counting sheep,
I'll try a nightcap, next, for sleep!

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)
(Disclaimer: This poem is a work of fiction. Any actual or fancied resemblances to real people, products, events, phenomena, or yawning voids in the very fabric of customer service are purely coincidental. I WISH!)

Waiting for Download

I buy a game, or just a tool
From someone on the internet -
And very shortly, you can bet
That I'll be flustered like a fool.

There's first the purchase to get through.
Because the checkout from the site
Is modelled on an all-in fight
With hordes of monkeys throwing poo.

At last to take my cash they deign,
And then I have to verify
That I am not a Russian spy
And promise never to complain

In case their download steals my stash
Before my promised bits arrive.
"I do!" The wires have come alive!
I'll have my program in a flash!

A big downloader! Whoop-di-do!
It upsells me the Brooklyn Bridge!
"Fuck off!" I cry - and hit the fridge
For pizza while the bits crawl through

The lines, like ants on treacle trails.
I eat the pizza, read a book,
Write twenty sonnets, catch a crook,
And fall asleep. The download fails.

I talk to umpteen helpline drones,
And do it all again, upon
The chance I knew not "Off" from "On".
Their best advice is "Roll the bones

Until by lucky chance you win!
Our server runs on MS-DOS,
And no-one knows, or gives a toss,
What kind of state it's gotten in.

"Thank you for calling!" "Thanks a lot!"
I write a script to roll the dice,
And come back home, to this advice:
"Get stuffed. We know you're just a bot!"

I take a month's vacation time,
And type in captchas all day long,
Until - this hour shall live in song! -
THE DOWNLOAD ENDS!!! And so, my rhyme

Shall end! ELEVENTY, IN LIGHTS!!111!!!!
I've got it! - Oy! What's this? "Please wait:
Godot.com needs to update.
Downloading: Ninety terabytes...."

Envoi:

My avatar called from the Moon
To say my app is starting soon.

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)

The Gardener's Rubaiyat

The garden's getting brambleful again.
The Rat Command has launched its Spring campaign.
I bring out my machete and my cat -
And then the clouds deliver this month's rain.

Where once were roses, now their rambling kin
Rise up to hug me, kissing cheek and chin
And leaving bloody lip-prints, which my wife
Is wont to cite as evidence of sin.

These doghouse days deserve a manly shed,
To keep my tools, and (at a pinch) my bed.
Alas! It's been co-opted for a lair
By That from which the Fighting Rats have fled.

The floods flash past, and leave but dust and drouth,
And memories of moisture in the mouth.
The Shed-Thing humps my building on its back,
And shambles off to seek the shady South.

My corky cactus tells me what to do,
And sails to seek the deserts, where it knew
A kind of loving in those five-year storms -
I storm, "Screw this!", and build a barbecue.

The slugs have found the Stella. Kenny Brown
Is chucking drunk. The Rat-King wins renown
By rustling all the grill-steaks while we row.
The cat applauds. The heavens burst. We drown.

The garden's full of brambles, bine and all.
My wife and I discuss our plans for Fall.
What beds we work on won't be out of doors!
The careful toads build ramparts on the wall.

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)


A first and merely qualitative attempt:




Degree of concern disclaimed

Acoustic Unit

Scatologic Unit

Erotic Unit
Significant Hoot Shit Fuck
Detectable Whinge Fart Stroke
Extreme Holler Sewer Orgy


Notes:

1) The use of toss for stroke is henceforth deprecated, due to its popular abuse as a synonym for the larger unit. It is probably not worth bothering with at all.

2) The levels of indifference within each magnitude category are conjectured to be approximately comparable across scales, but accurate determination of the conversion ratios awaits a fully comprehensive survey of the socio-linguistic-apathetic landscape, and:

3) Nobody gives that much of a Care Bear.
caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)

The Personal Astronomer

I always think of you as William Herschel,
The fields of heaven spread before your eyes,
And you screwed tightly to your telescope
Discovering Uranus.

*

(The old ones are always the best.)

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (goat)
What is the correct singular for sheeple?  Shouldn't it be sheepson?

And what is the correct response to an accusation of being a sheepson?  Should one give the offender a good lamming, lambast them on the Internet, or shrug and say "Meh?"


caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)

The easy-going lifestyle of Little Acton up the Junction is in danger!  Arch-villain The Big Boss and his army of soulless Taylorites have come to town with bills and clipboards, hell-bent on wringing the last dram of productivity from the luckless Little Actonians.  Shall all joy, good-fellowship, and leisure depart from the ancient County of Middlesex forever?

Mild-mannered clerk Darren Doolittle says, "Blow that for a game of soldiers!"   But saying "Blow that for a game of soldiers!" is just the easy part!!!  In order to banish The Big Boss and eff off his ineffable efficiency experts, Dazzer Boy will have to cast an idle glance in the general direction of the hero inside himself, and get his well-padded posterior into the lycra leotards of the immovable

CAPTAIN ARGON!

Captain Argon!  Captain Argon!

Captain Argon!  Half the comic's past!
Plot has not got started!  He cannot be arsed!
Captain A, whatever...

Find a copy lying around within easy reach of you, later!!!!

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)
Killer-Kate and Luke Lackland:  Re-read completed.  I now understand - inasmuch as I ever did - where I left everybody in the infamous Four Agenda Pile-Up.

Evil Genius iz sad.  wot iz it w dEz chavs & h8ers?  :-(

Relatively Okay Genius is super busy.  l8r lol

Romeo has changed his status to: It's complicated.

Juliet has changed her status to: It's complicated.

Romeo is boiling with rage.

2 people liked this.

Righteous Penguin: Im 2 holy 4 my flame, 2 holy 4 my flame, 2 holy 2b tame

Evil Genius: W/E btch!

You have received an invitation to join a new group: Dieux et Nos Droits

You have received an invitation to join a new group: Class War Already

Narrator has a headache.

Narrator has several headaches.

KillerKate: hi all


caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)
I blame [info]heleninwales for bringing the original meme to my attention. This evolved the following poetically proper Twelve Days of Christmas:

Twelve del_cs drumming
Eleven suzychs piping
Ten mountains a-leaping
Nine goats dancing
Eight physics idling
Seven economics a-writing
Six books a-walking
Five ga-a-a-ames
Four cats
Three computers
Two politics
...and a music in a biology.


But then it all went doorstop-shaped! Knocking back her fifth miniature of Old Sheepdip, my Muse observed that everything is better with Extruded Fantasy Product, and began carolling according to the following scheme...


...Twelve pages' cast list,
Eleven elves enchanting,
Ten swords backtalking,
Nine Dark Lords duncing,
Eight buckles swashing,
Seven dwarves upshacking,
Six stewpots stewing,
FIVE ONE RINGS!
Four fated meetings,
Three plotty coupons,
Two looming sequels, and
A hero up a gum tree.


I regard the squarer-shaped parcels under my tree with a new and superstitious awe, and wonder how many she's got right.


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