Sunday, August 16, 2015
The Solution of Northern Murder
Detective Rack dumped out the
Swede's footlocker and placed every
article carefully in the empty room.
Most of the cold rooms of the Swede's
house proved empty.
He spent an hour revolving a fat figurine
from an Elsinore fair.
A barmaid, he concluded.
Didn't know Chief was in the vicinity.
Brought Swede in to pick up a warmer parka.
When accused saw the barmaid, he fainted.
"That's enough for me!" Chief declared.
But wasn't quite, because he took the sensitive
miscreant, once revived, out to a frigid shed,
where he picked up a frosty snapped-off
fencepost and threatened him.
Confession, of course, wrapped it up.
Even so, Rack still perused the other junk from
the footlocker.
TV considering a series based on Rack's cases.
“I thought TV about action,” I, his sometimes
partner, remarked.
Evidently not, for they had to leave out the
fencepost in the pilot.
But they still had Racky.
Labels: clues, Detective Series, murder, Northern, pilot script, Swedish, violent policing
Sunday, March 01, 2015
The Woman Who Wouldn't
Please don't impute sex im-
mediately. Came out diffident
in everything. Steady, not ex-
perimental, in dull truth.
As an example, when two-
toned sneakers attacked
the village, she eschewed
chartreuse/orange for a few
pairs of firesale black.
In similar vein, when a brother-
sister gifted her a Jill Karby
Blouse--both having hopes--
she took advantage of their
emphatic glasses, and dearth
of judging size, by wearing it
to bed. Alone and happy! For
emotion exhausted and
embarrassed, and that
was that! In Hollywood Bourgeois,
she meets a Fellow Diffident, they
develop a rattling hate, then, lah-
dee-dah, one paradoxical love-
v-v-v! Some weirdness splits them,
AND, with all looking altogether flat-
ly, grimly pastel...ah!...
Well, she does prove Darker
Art-House, in a new flick so
Swedish-Boring as to supply pain.
Thus now, how truly to get her an
ultimate wiggle on?
Nothing. She’ll go her way.
And die. Like the rest of us.
Labels: boring, bourgeois, diffident, emotion, fad, film, love, sex, Swedish
Friday, November 14, 2014
Christophers
“Face your monsters, throttle some, have them
come out of you into the miasma etc.”
The guys drink to this, and another man comes
by on the road, then down to his knees.
The road a dark moon of blacker trees.
“Mother! I worked and worked! But the women
and the booze, and later all the drugs and I
never came close to your dreams for me! But I’m
your little Honey-Boy. I’m still your little Christopher!”
“Next time I dress as him. I’d been missing the horror,”
Chups tells Bester.
“What’s horror all about, anyway?”
“Living.”
...
'Twas very dark on Hallowe'en,
With not a speck of light;
The clouds had just passed o'er the moon,
And silent was the night.
The clouds had just passed o'er the moon,
And silent was the night.
We waited in a lonely grove
And then a ghost went by;
We were too scared to run away,
And much too old to cry;
We were too scared to run away,
And much too old to cry.
It had a wide and flaming mouth,
Its eyes were glowing too;
If you had seen it, I am sure,
It would have frightened you!
If you had seen it, I am sure,
It would have frightened you!
But then the glowing light went dim,
And ev'rybody said
Was only Christopher
With such a pumpkin head!
That it was only Christopher,
With such a pumpkin head!*
*Swedish Traditional
Labels: booze, drugs, Halloween, Mother, regret, Swedish, tragedy, wrecked lives
