Handsets
peppy ringing
fosters frequent discourse
bridging loneliness with a prompt
chinwag
gadgets
solid gainful
employ explores express
rapport despite widespread qualms re
mobiles
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they face whirlwind snowfall, freezing ice,
while others brazenly squirm,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
of this genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
velvet moon worlds sidereal captured,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
MY GOD SAYS dedicated to GOD IS SPEAKING MINISTRIES
Talk
say (anything/something)
utter
state
My God declares declare
tells
by His voice narrative natures choice
Pronounce articulate enunciate
Vocalize verbalize
Enounce My God says
o have a conversations
"Last time He spoke"
My God says have a conversation with His spirit
talk
My God says have a talk with Jesus
My God says have a discussion
Converse communicate His will His ways
Make conversation with His sounds
Chew the fat/rag His natures eats
My God said natter have a chinwag
Shoot the breeze MY Creator winds
Give a speech give a talk His righteousness walks
5/12/23
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Your mother must be ohh so proud
of you
Of all the complex things and thoughts
you have to say
Choose to write down and post
Oh how I bet she must share them
with all the other countless mother
stork's
Have them printed and placed above
her fireplace in gothic crucifix frames
Just incase the devil pop's in for
afternoon tea and a good old catch
up and chinwag
Again just to see how his number 1
little so and so is doing
In regards to how it's going stirring
the pot and raising temperature's up
He's even brought a few golden stars
just for you
If you have been a very , very bad boy
and your numbers are up
And if they aren't I have even brought a
list of suggestions of other stupid
offensive things
That should work as well
Hobgoblin in the gutter under canopy of midnight,
magic brew of muti without rein.
Shadow figure torchon, darting half-light dare.
Spine chilling droplets wobble slowly down drains,
rusty copper mouthwash at the edge of jagged chutes.
Eerie urban soundscapes frame,
a sneeze or smothered cough.
Drone of vagrant motors probe, the flyby ink-black abyss.
Youthful laughter echoes over back streets,
as nearby lamp posts cast their bloodshot rays.
Night owls chinwag over Onion Bhaji,
raucous babble buried in a saffron whiff.
Strains of ragtime jazz and sleek arpeggios,
shrine or vinyl monument ahoy.
Hobo’s lonely whistle on an empty pier.
Urban jungle cast-off ghostly lurch,/
Burakumin patsy in high dudgeon.
Spooky timelines relish every moment of suspense,
swallowing the hush with ghoulish glee.
Quasimodo bell ring vaults a broomstick,
setter of alarm and wanton panic.
City wall clock twiddles on its hourly thumb,
scene plotter’s endless play denouement,
wee small hour dialogue without a script,
waiting for the dawn to take it’s baton.
Chinwag Pies
A crowd gathers
Where the poor run wild,
Relentlessly taunting
An innocent child,
Scathing, scalding
Thieving eyes,
Scrimping, scraping
Chinwag pies.
Two a penny
For those that beg,
A clip round the ear
For your gammy leg,
Gossiping mothers
Cannot abide
The bastard child
Of the old dockside.
"Hello sailor,
Empty your pocket,
Got me shilling
For me golden locket?"
Ne're-do-well harlot,
Talk of the town,
Don't belong round here
In her five bob gown.
"What about me boy?
An urchin for sure,
Spare him the price
Of being poor"
Toss him a penny,
Toss him a pound,
We don't want his sort
Skulking around,
Shove him this way,
Shove him that,
Shove him in a coffin
With his begging hat.
The crowd disperses
Back to their lives
Of hen pecked husbands
And drunken wives.
Suburban gardens,
Plastic flowers,
Hair in curlers,
Nattering for hours,
Over the fence
Spinning their lies
With folded arms
And chinwag pies.
Jes' a rollin' chinwag
in th' tongue o' sea scallywags
th' piratin' yarn tha' ne'er did birth
no' fanciful, nor folly
jes' stew'd up prob'ly
neithe' aimin' fer side-splittin' mirth
Tharrr be nary no Cap'n
me gums be a-flappin'
th' kinfolk in verse ter regale
'tis no genius at play
th' scribe o' yon day
be feath'rin' a no'sensical tale
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