Where is the island?
There! Behind the mist!
I can’t see it. Are you sure it’s there?
It was there last time I saw it!
But, what’s to say that it’s still there now?
It just is, alright?
It might have been stolen, sunk, or just floated away.
Yes, there is a possibility, though not a probability.
I reckon it sank, without Tracey.
I meant, ‘without a trace’.
Yes. I can see that now.
Oh, good grief!
Never say rabbit on a train –
I know, not a boat, a train;
because if you do (but you shouldn’t, so don’t);
but, if you do, who knows what will happen?
“It is said that ‘everybody has a book in them’; well, I’ve just seen my x-rays – and it’s true!”
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Book, #FF, #vss, prose
“Here you are, Mr. Binary, your room, Room 5.”
Mr. B: Oh, no! I distinctly asked not to be allocated this room number, it’s even unluckier than room one-one-o-one!
“Our room numbers don’t go up that far, Mr. Binary. We only have 20 rooms.
SD Mr. B considers this.
Mr. B: And, are you sure that nineteen pounds eighty four is the correct amount per night? Have I got that right?
At least a stopped clock is right twice a day.
A stopped perpetual calendar, on the other hand…
Where is it?
Is it in the box that he bought it in?
Or did he pop it out of the box
and into a cupboard?
Is it upon his head?
Is it hanging behind the door?
No, it isn’t.
Is it in the wash?
No, but it was good to check.
Is it at the Library?
No. Why would it be there, he hasn’t been to the Library.
Is it somewhere else?
Yes – obviously!
Where is his hat?
Now that would be telling.
I say, did you hear about the Librarian who prayed for silence and then went deaf?
Be careful what you pray for.
“Please click upon
every box that has a traffic-light in.”
So I do.
And then I indicate
all the boxes with crossings in,
black and white cats,
men with and without hats,
and also I enter the code C3bHy5c,
just to prove that I am,
or am not,
By this time,
I’ve forgotten what I’m here for,
and, as my battery is getting low,
plug myself in
and await full charge again,
and so on and on it does go.
Well, I used to write a lot on WordPress,
until that night with the green flashing lights
in the sky;
and then the triffids got loose.
Since then, well, you know, I have been busy protecting myself from the Triffids,
and, subsequently, I’ve had a lot less views on WordPress,
I haven’t really had the time to write a lot of things,
and most of the things that I have written have been written mainly about Triffids,
it’s very strange;
and then there are the ‘clacks’,
the noise that Triffids make when communicating –
now we’ve got lots of clacks over here,
like upon Discworld,
and that’s strange, how does my mind work like that?
Talking to cats
is a thing
one can at least impart your thoughts
to another sentient being
without the fear of being—
okay, I’ll rub your head, puss –