Dream

The dream lacks detail so it’s not one the girl wants to linger in for long. She prefers the labyrinthine landcapes of the dreams she had before, their complex inexplicable plotlines, their adjusted saturation. The dreams she had before everything changed were more fantastical. Those old dreams that she mourns the loss of had posterized edges, they weren’t always pretty. Colour-drenched like old lomographic shots. There was blood, there were smells, and faint whispers had a silver bell clang to them, even silence was a streaming ribbon that was, somehow, audible, even tangible. The best dreams now were the ones she managed to muster him in.

Freud would have had a lot to say about her dreamscape architecture and its turreted buildings and its wet openmouthed caves that dripped honeydew.

She sometimes dreamed of banquets. Sometimes of death. Of words that formed in frost and yet were unreadable, Enochian maybe. She always tried to dream of him.

She has no idea who Freud was. Or what a Lomo Kompakt Automat is. She is now a stranger to the world. The world she lived in and still breathes in. She doesn't know it for what it once once.

Dream:

A spiral staircase down which a bride tumbles, her gown as white and frothy as a waterfall. Soft cakes with sharp needles baked into their centres. Discoveries of nacreous edible treasures, dabloon-like coins, saliva-white strings of jewels. Apocalyptic oceans populated by skeletal fleshless killer beasts too pared down and boney to kill again. Shadow sharks. A red smile turning slowly blue.  Ice horses grey as ghosts that breathe fire and crack a parched earth right through to its core with axe sharp silvered hooves. Static inanimate objects suddenly flushing with life, with heartbeats. Like every thing has a soul or at the very least a trapped pulse, a drum beat, a sound to be heard, a sign of unexpected life. All noise is brown. Dice falling on velvet in slow motion. Two sixes, then two sixes again and again. Unlikely luck. A girl, on a bridge, as out of place and as desolate as an abandoned shoe on a wall. Incongruously, starkly real and human – an iron railing wears a lost glove like an eyeless squid puppet. Lost copper coins become valueless on the pavement, alongside the sensuously sucked butts of gold banded cigarettes, red lipstick marks on the overall-brown paper filter, the kiss and the pleasure thrown away. Just the smokey burned memory charring the lungs of the smoker as she walks away on murderous spiked heels, her eyes a toxic sort of blue/black, contact lenses perhaps, or is she an alien?...

tbc

Carmen: Dictionary - Jokes - Observations

Not in alphabetical order!

Carmen is one of my granddaughters (now 5 yrs old). I like the way children describe things so I'm recording her very unique take on stuff here:

Snowpella Bears - polar bears
Cruft - a woman's cleavage
Wonks - the udders of a cow
Medsent - medicine

One

You are the words that form in frost.

The sound of summers gone.

You are the secret kept in a box of keys.

You are the one.

Morbid, I depict you

Sorrow mine, the silver of your sins

Opiates and primal moans

The tastes and sounds of us

Shot an altruistic watermark

Through souls and bedsheets torn



I shudder

I afflict you

Morbid I depict you



Unruly runs the golden flash of guilt

Petty theft of pretty faith

The rules and bounds of us

Shot an altruistic watermark

Through hearts and pages torn



I shudder

I afflict you

Morbid I depict you



Sonic booms the ruby kiss of death

Bitter on our tongues

The faults and finds of us

Shot an altruistic watermark

Through holes in walls and ages gone.



I shudder

I afflict you

Morbid I depict you

Update

Look, I'm updating my blog.

What Is The Sexiest Word?

I asked the lovely Twitter folk their opinions on the sexiest word. And the Twitter folk, obliging bunch of hornbags that they are, responded with their usual randy enthusiasm for anything with a smidgeon of sauciness involved.

YES:

@GRIMACHU informed me that he thinks the word YES is the sexiest. He was joined by @drewadamson100 who also cited YES as his special favourite. I suppose it depends largely on the sort of question that the word YES is given in response to as to how sexy it seems. After all, a YES can be elicited from such queries as "Have you noticed that the grout's discoloured in the en suite?" , "Does anyone else think Auntie Mabel's started to smell funny?" or “Are you sure you won’t have one of Jocelyn’s organic mung bean patties?”

Now, far be it from me to burst anyone’s bubbles, YES can be sexy, but it’s sexier in multiples. But, beware... say, “Yes, yes,” and you might sound curt and stand offish, try “Yes, yes, yes!” and it has a far sexier feel. So it’s three yeses but not in X-Factor style. By the way, have you noticed that the grout’s discoloured in the en-suite? No? Thought not. Too preoccupied playing silly games on Twitter.

MOIST:

@LittleRants and @PeterClumpy like MOIST. Of course they do! MOIST is what cakes and soil should be so these guys might be bakers or gardeners, or both. More likely they were thinking along other lines, more curvaceous ones, perhaps. I really don’t have to spell it out, do I? Speaking of curvaceous…

CURVACEOUS:

@cyberdonkey suggested CURVACEOUS as the sexiest word. As a woman of fleshy roundessess myself, I won’t argue with him. Also, he’s 6ft 4inches of giant jazziness so what he says goes.

PLEASE: 

The politest boys in the class @Harry_Flowers and @thatandywhite both said PLEASE. I think they even put their hands up and called me Miss when they did so. Yep, as a standalone PLEASE is sexy sometimes.  It’s not quite so appealing if followed by a STOP or a DON’T or a JUST FUCK OFF. But I’m sure that’s not what these well-mannered creatures meant.

ORAL:

@milliwardipants suggested ORAL. Unless he’s a person with a dentist fetish we can only assume he was thinking in tongues. See what I did there? I am a cunning linguist.

ACCOUNTANCY:

Allow me to quote @fulhammatty. In response to the question: What is the sexiest word ever?” he replied: “ACCOUNTANCY. Definitely. With its Double-Entry Book-keeping and that.”

Well, I don’t know about you but it got me going. I was especially aroused by the ‘and that’.

ELLIPSIS, SLUG, RUMPELSTILTSKIN:

@probablySGT reckons ELLIPSIS is the one. @madlymuffiny says, “My money is on SLUG.” And @ashnod puts RUMPELSTILTSKIN forward as a contender. These three words, I imagine, are words that can be screamed out during orgasm with stunning effects. I’m sure I’ll be corrected if I’m wrong.

OHALRIGHTTHEN:

@mrnickharvey likes OHALRIGHTTHEN. I think this might be the name of his Swedish Au Pair. I didn’t like to ask further questions.

MELLIFLUOUS:

@andy_pattison must be a true romantic, choosing a word that generally pertains to sound. Aw, don’t you just love him.

VENUS:

Thanks to @69wurdz for suggesting VENUS. Of course it’s a sexy word. The name of the Goddess of Love and it rhymes with penis.

PLINTH:

@Mikeyukhc throws the word PLINTH in. He says, “Watch a woman's mouth when she says it. May not be ideal for you, works wonders for me, though.” I sat repeating the word PLINTH for a while and I think I get what he means.

That is all, people. But of course you must be desperate to know what I consider the sexiest word… Currently it is INEVITABLE. Don’t ask me why, I can’t explain.

  

The Ravenous House

The front door of the hilltop house,

Was warped and faced due south.

When open a glistening tongue rolled out,

The door was a gaping mouth.

The tongue unfurled down the garden path,

It licked the garden gate.

It orally molested anyone,

Who dared to arrive there late.

It lapped at ladies’ perfumed necks,

It nuzzled at their thighs.

It wrapped itself around young men.

It viciously ignored their cries.

All who entered the ravenous house,

Were swallowed raw, and whole.

Picked bones ejected out the back,

In a bin for each spat-out soul.

The door had teeth as sharp as claws,

It was not like most other doors.

It sometimes yawned and often burped,

It masticated and it slurped.

Whenever someone rang the bell,

The door would salivate like hell.

A drooling thing, a Pavlov hound,

Bear this in mind, should you go round.

But should the door take all the blame?

For eating everyone that came?

It was the house, that hungry hut,

Digested people in its gut.

A gut that looked much like a room

All bloody red, a red womb tomb.

In which no visitor stayed placid,

Corroding in digestive acid.

~

The front door of the hilltop house is warped and faces south.

When open a glistening tongue rolls out,

The door is a gaping mouth.

The tongue unfurls down the garden path

To greet you at the gate.

Be ready for a licking, friend,

You’re three minutes, one second late.

It’s lapping at your jugular,

It’s nuzzling at your thighs.

It’s wrapped itself around you.

It will ignore your cries.

And now you enter the famished house,

To be swallowed raw, and whole.

The bones of you tossed out the back.

In a bin for your inedible soul.

The door was not like other doors.

It bit you hard, then burped.

It crunched you to gristly pulp, and as it did it slurped.

Remember when you rang the bell?

The door did drip and drool like hell.

A dribbling thing, a Pavlov beast,

Made greedy for a human feast.

But should the door take all the blame?

For devouring you without asking your name?

Nay, t’was the house, that ravenous hut.

Digested you in its deathly gut.

Yet you must be named culpable too.

Let not our charge be hasty.

The house would not have eaten you.

If you hadn’t been so tasty.

*BURPS*