from sc 7

A

Like catfish suck we mud;
Rich debris slime and recompose -
The still composting effluent of those
Who swanned before us.


Y

By whom you mean to indicate
The persons we'd adjudicate
To rank as greatest writers?


St

We gulp their thoughts -


Y

- remasticate
Their words and plots -


St

- to demonstrate -


Y

That we're post-mod grave-robbers?


St

The greatest homage one can pay
To ancient writers is -


Y

- we say -


St

To dress them down for readers

co-operweb

I'd had some valuable advice from folks on the Help Group. Maybe it'll start working {see The Pentameter Hex'd).

typewriting simians

This is the stuff I've posted on The Pentameter Hex'd: but I've committed some error in the template which I can't trace, so the original site refuses to respond to the search engines. I'll try again later.

from sc 3

Tr
Still with us, Jim?

R
My car's downstairs.

Tr
The Aussies must be missing you.
I'm sure your series will go well.
Just stick to those dramatic rules
Which keep us a-dinging that ratings bell.
A territory - a street, a town,
A barrel appled full of cops,
A beach spaced-out to flash the flesh,
A square with pubs and flats and shops,
The unities of hospitals
Whose medics, crazies, life-like limp-ons
Confront while they sedate our pain,
Or psychic sleuths who make us think on
Secret paranormal files -
Might X be true? Well, see next week's
Episode. So: build strong plots,
Clear characters - the soapstar speaks
In tongues to comfort all afflictions
With words your fans identify
And live through, hope and fear, sound base
Whose squaddies tramp and bang and fly
And love and hate, hey, Jim?

R
Yes, John.
I see my task as partnership
With our true fans: I let them feel
That they direct each novel trip
The story takes. More - they restrain
Wild fantasies, accept our mock-
Demotic argot, which we keep free
Of that inventiveness we've docked
From common speech. But gotta go.
It's been fun, John. Do take good care.

Tr
And you, young man.

from sc 5

S
He said: we call a spade a spade, and insofar
As gardeners share their digging, well and good.
But your average liar - by which he meant himself
And every living person - may choose to call
A shovel, pick or trenching tool, a hoe,
A loosening mattock or a dibber by
The appellation "spade" if this thus boosts
Their cause -

from sc 5

S
He postulates for snow - four times twelve?

Tr
Forty-eight -

S
- terms: the early hope
In vaporous ascent of adiabatic change;
Rise up to condensation level: super-
Saturation! The coalescence of droplets!
The aggregation of crystal cleft to crystal!
The hexagonal plates and rays amassed! The air
Cannot hold them! The niveous fall -

Tr
As when it's snowing?

S
Hail! O solid ball
Of brain, so unlike graupel that you comprehend
His drift precipitously!

Tr
You sparkle, but that's a dusty
Answer

S
Apologies.

Tr
Go on.

S
The softness
Which transforms our world: we look upon it -
We're ravished. Oh quiet blanket which melts the heart;
You voluptuous bed - oh yielding mattress entreating
Our healthy loins to crunch you. O whiter-out of souls!
The hard one, making an igloo for my lover,
The insulator of monogamous desire,
The dripping slop, the slushy pal who tells me:
Lend her to your friend; the promiscuous pack-ice;
The firm bank which beckons: "stick in your icepick,
Oh hot boy!" Such flakey promises! Frozen granulation.
The freezing quilt now sucking all your heat
Away; hiemal powder, heart-burning ice;
Firn, neve, sleet; promising cornice -
Now avalanche to overwhelm your breath
And snuff you.
When the blizzard's had its Oates, the death of Scott.
The polar cap.
Or, mildly: winter's bouncy castle;
A painted background for three hunters;
Preserver of doggy footprints; Santa's carpet;
Deposits from God we really should sweep off
Our path - or should the council do it?
Free kids playstuff;
Warm cover of forgetfulness;
The Great Eskimo Vocabulary Hoax - the Inuit's
Stock of thirtysix that Pinker claims
They never had -

Tr
That sounds like one to list -

S
Infusion of cold; entwining limbs and hooking
Tongues of passion; No two snowflakes
Are alike, John; block made of one word.

Tr
I think it's time for a meeting with Nick Ling.
Finish your drink. I'll see you later.

S
He postulates for snow - four times twelve?

Tr
Forty-eight -

S
- terms: the early hope
In vaporous ascent of adiabatic change;
Rise up to condensation level: super-
Saturation! The coalescence of droplets!
The aggregation of crystal cleft to crystal!
The hexagonal plates and rays amassed! The air
Cannot hold them! The niveous fall -

Tr
As when it's snowing?

S
Hail! O solid ball
Of brain, so unlike graupel that you comprehend
His drift precipitously!

Tr
You sparkle, but that's a dusty
Answer

S
Apologies.

Tr
Go on.

S
The softness
Which transforms our world: we look upon it -
We're ravished. Oh quiet blanket which melts the heart;
You voluptuous bed - oh yielding mattress entreating
Our healthy loins to crunch you. O whiter-out of souls!
The hard one, making an igloo for my lover,
The insulator of monogamous desire,
The dripping slop, the slushy pal who tells me:
Lend her to your friend; the promiscuous pack-ice;
The firm bank which beckons: "stick in your icepick,
Oh hot boy!" Such flakey promises! Frozen granulation.
The freezing quilt now sucking all your heat
Away; hiemal powder, heart-burning ice;
Firn, neve, sleet; promising cornice -
Now avalanche to overwhelm your breath
And snuff you.
When the blizzard's had its Oates, the death of Scott.
The polar cap.
Or, mildly: winter's bouncy castle;
A painted background for three hunters;
Preserver of doggy footprints; Santa's carpet;
Deposits from God we really should sweep off
Our path - or should the council do it?
Free kids playstuff;
Warm cover of forgetfulness;
The Great Eskimo Vocabulary Hoax - the Inuit's
Stock of thirtysix that Pinker claims
They never had -

Tr
That sounds like one to list -

S
Infusion of cold; entwining limbs and hooking
Tongues of passion; No two snowflakes
Are alike, John; block made of one word.

Tr
I think it's time for a meeting with Nick Ling.
Finish your drink. I'll see you later.

from sc 9

I'm Nicholas Ling, the strong -
Fighting the media wars' my song:
I rule the playground, kicking my rivals in.
Say "yes" to me, that's my trip -
Like breaking the regulators' grip,
Extracting rental, filing suits I'll win.
Each parliament, once taken on
I lobby, purchase, whereupon
Trained by the whips to love us thugs, this grin,
They assign to me nice frequencies
To fill minds with my vacancies:
Who broadcasts news can preach that there's no sin
In anodyne philosophy:
The way things are, they're meant to be.
Life's predigested, filtered plain, by Ling.

from sc 16

Ar

Look, I know I’m less than human: an earwig –

Though that’s a slander on an honest insect.

I crept aboard the company for shelter

On dry land. Then whoosh! My roof’s upturned,

Re-set by strong men, a boat upon the water.

I lodge in Ling’s shell-like: overhearing

Words whispered to others as the vessel rocks.

Forficula auricularia, that’s me.

Your servant, your spy.

A

Hah! Ha!

H

You creepy crawly.

Ar

What’s a bug to do?

If I climb off, kerplish! I’m not brave.

Sweet oarsmen, occupied with sending on

Your craft, please listen to your coxwain’s orders.

Don’t seize that hollow time between the strokes

To pluck me up – and into the drink that drowns.

Will he notice me? Like me? Hate me?

My life depends upon these straining men

Ignoring me.

A

Never in your life, my sweet.

Ar

Walk along the coxwain’s line? I prefer

Not to steer things for others. He’d turn

And with the rudder washing through the stream

I’d stumble, an offering to brother bream.

Stick to the crew, don’t move, just wait:

Row back to your boathouse and I’ll escape that fate.

H

Better be a bee.

A

Bees sting and die.

Ar

Tonight, I earwig.

A

By which you mean?

Ar

William, I’m your host.

A

What better man

To oversee my trial by nation’s telly?