the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
 
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
 
i am an unmarried mother
 
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
 
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
rebirth
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...
 

Pygmy Country

In Greek mythology, pygmies were a tribe of twenty-seven inch tall men in India who warred with cranes.

"Beyond these in the most outlying mountain region we are told of the Three-Span (Trispithami) Pygmae who do not exceed three spans, that is, twenty-seven inches, in height; the climate is healthy and always spring-like, as it is protected on the north by a range of mountains; this tribe Homer has also recorded as being beset by cranes. It is reported that in springtime their entire band, mounted on the backs of rams and she-goats and armed with arrows, goes in a body down to the sea and eats the cranes’ eggs and chickens, and that this outing occupies three months; and that otherwise they could not protect themselves against the flocks of cranes would grow up; and that their houses are made of mud and feathers and egg-shells. Aristotle says that the Pygmae live in caves, but in the rest of this statement about them he agrees with the other authorities." --- Pliny Natural History 7.23-30


this is a story of dwarfs among men now don’t you get any ideas
let the story unfold once upon a time in the land of pygmies
a land grown soulless by years of neglect and intemperate clime
there arrived a new lord and master he was quickly christened Lord Snotty
by the pygmy Grand Council who met in haste and ratified the ascension
they saw in him a saviour and the last hope for pygmykind
a thousand sunflowers will bloom once again
their numbers were dwindling and over time men with a certain height
had begun to cast their shadows how dare they thought the pygmies
and rightly so for history is full of small men who tried to outgrow their height
or as Freud would say the size of their penis
heard of Hitler?
coming back to Lord Snotty
he had the face of a bullfrog and the attitude of a stuffed pig
what a pleasant combination add to this a hunched back
he grovelled a lot and loved listening to the sound of his own croaking
now Pygmy Country is a strange place ruled by apathetic Once Giants
who really don’t care except for the sweet sound of the till
so with Lord Snotty at the helm there was a commotion in the pygmy land
he literally set a cat among the pigeons other pygmies began to fear for their life
some wily survivors bowed to the Lord others shoved their heads
in sand and went into hibernation a stratagem of the calculating
however one thing needs to be said of Lord Snotty
he was unfazed and genetically accomplished
a doctoral thesis in genomics behind him
he decided to take on the populace by a unique ploy
“I will breed my own clones and they shall be my brothers in arm” he said
and thus was born a new breed of pygmies
Lord Snotty and his Pony-tailed Brigade they walked like him they talked like him
he said the sun moves around the earth they said ditto
he said who is brightest of them all they said but of course you Lord Snotty
and together they unleashed a war on the unsuspecting pygmies
benumbed by lethargy and ennui brought on by decades of inertia
and thus the prodigious pygmy land was rescued from the morass it had sunk into
Once Giants were pleased as cheese and gave a huge pat on the back of Lord Snotty
who went back to his favourite love chair at his favourite love hotel
in the back lanes of misty suburbia and gave himself a treat
slurp…slurp

it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies
all ye join me in chorus
it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies

who said pygmies are not tall bunk the conventional knowledge
they have super size egos and travel in supersonic jets sipping vintage red wine
and tucked in at night by pretty airhostesses in oversized beds
here i must say they do have a private loathing of mirrors
a mirror is more dangerous than contraband in pygmy land
for it doesn’t show them a pretty picture
quite understandable isn’t it?
anyway this is no time to philosophise who needs truth
and public memory has tiny legs to cut a long story short
Pygmy Country was never the same again
old diehard pygmies went into a huddle and decided to lie low
and the Lord Snotty convened his daily durbar
with unfailing regularity and set into motion his grand conquest
now that the home front was secure the final outpost must be captured
the land of the tall men those ambidextrous eight legged freaks
with their clipped accents bravo moustaches and bellwether swagger
they must be taught a lesson and so begins a new chapter in our story
the multitudes of pygmies grew restive battle sounds were heard
in distant lands bugles went suddenly out of stock
and were available only in black market no price being too high
the shrillest voice often outscores the slender voice of substance
let it be said about the pygmies
whether it was warring with the cranes or hunting with wolves
they mastered the art of self preservation
today they don’t just roam equatorial rainforests and Andaman islands
or survive in the pages of Greek mythology
but travel in swank cars smoke Cuban cigars play golf in the morning
attend conventions in the evening and jive in psychedelic nightclubs
the world is truly their oyster and their bellies are full
gotta move on baby

it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies
all ye join me in chorus
it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies

and cranes better watch out your wings will be snapped and your breath
will be broken if you dare attack the pygmy lair
their semi nomadic herd mentality is their biggest ally
they are attached to no one but to their kind
like mercenaries they ravage the earth they walk on and then leave
the remains to be carried away by those left behind
and on they go to their next conquest
with their triumphant wet smiles and a merry band
hail the pygmies hurrah to the Lord Snotty

it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies
all ye join me in chorus
it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies

and before we sign off you may ask
what about the battle with the tall men those eight legged freaks
what about it? the pygmy camp is upbeat can’t you see the saliva drooling
from Lord Snotty’s beady mouth it’s another thing
last night he had too much carousing and his stomach is playing up
a matter of small detail …ah another burp and a belch
look at him dressed in battle finery the Lord is all geared to play the games big boys play
so what if he is two feet and three inches it’s all in the mind honey
armies of dishevelled pygmies and rudderless tall men
in suspended animation are about to engage in a gladiatorial contest
while their masters take a vacation in French Alps it gets too hot in summers here
take the ringside
or watch this space for a live report from the battlefront

meanwhile join me in saying it loud and clear
hey all ye put your hands together and sing

it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies
it’s the time of the pygmies it’s the age of the pygmies

oh yeah…say it once more