fun with words
Last week a friend of mine wrote a poem inspired by me.
It was, as are most of his poems, slightly disturbing.
Anyway, I responded in poetry form, and he finished off with another poem.
The end effect was quite interesting, if not long, so the details are...
First, he wrote this:
For Stu... Aka - The Hobbyist
Cut
Wound
Slice
Hack
Gash
Chop
Slash
Tear
Split
Incise
Carve
Sever
Crack
Rend
Pare
Section
Portion
Dice
Rip
So I wrote this:
Hobbyist - from Stu
It was such an old fashioned deal
An act of affection, I’m told.
No time for any weapons,
Or blunt instruments to be found
An attack of the most personal kind
With hands tightly around my neck
Fingers pressing in to my windpipe
Blocking the vital air supply.
Before I knew what was going on
My world began to grow dark
And suddenly the only thing that mattered
Was to fight back
Retaliate
Make right.
So I beat and I scratched
But all to no avail
My lungs screamed for another breath
And a voice from the back said
I told you I’d get you in the end
But at least when they found me
slumped over the steering wheel
All they had to do
Was scrape under my nails
And match the DNA.
And he finished it off with this:
Hobbyist - A reply...
It’s not me really
I’m someone else today
Someone now hiding
In the back of a car
Simple task to enter a car
A short wait
Until the owner returns
So here I lurk
In a car
Except it’s not me really
Last month I took a man
Slightly larger than me
A pretty boy and body toned
Stalked him quietly
Learnt his moves
And one morning
Rammed a thin steel spike
Upwards at the top of his spine
He’s who I am
I wear him well
It’s not really me
It never is
So here I am
As driver enters - starts
Pulls off
I know when to emerge
On which bit of this journey
To end this game
This one is personal
Risky for me
But today I’m someone else
The moment is here
Snakebite of memory enters my veins
Mind ravaged by poisoned thoughts
I rise up
Reach out
Grasp
Both hands
Firm and sure
Like a potter at his wheel
Inexorably crushing his windpipe - he struggles in vain
Blocking vital air supply - he thrashes and scratches
Revenge
Make right!
“I said I’d get you”
A final lesson for a fair weather friend…
It was, as are most of his poems, slightly disturbing.
Anyway, I responded in poetry form, and he finished off with another poem.
The end effect was quite interesting, if not long, so the details are...
First, he wrote this:
For Stu... Aka - The Hobbyist
Cut
Wound
Slice
Hack
Gash
Chop
Slash
Tear
Split
Incise
Carve
Sever
Crack
Rend
Pare
Section
Portion
Dice
Rip
So I wrote this:
Hobbyist - from Stu
It was such an old fashioned deal
An act of affection, I’m told.
No time for any weapons,
Or blunt instruments to be found
An attack of the most personal kind
With hands tightly around my neck
Fingers pressing in to my windpipe
Blocking the vital air supply.
Before I knew what was going on
My world began to grow dark
And suddenly the only thing that mattered
Was to fight back
Retaliate
Make right.
So I beat and I scratched
But all to no avail
My lungs screamed for another breath
And a voice from the back said
I told you I’d get you in the end
But at least when they found me
slumped over the steering wheel
All they had to do
Was scrape under my nails
And match the DNA.
And he finished it off with this:
Hobbyist - A reply...
It’s not me really
I’m someone else today
Someone now hiding
In the back of a car
Simple task to enter a car
A short wait
Until the owner returns
So here I lurk
In a car
Except it’s not me really
Last month I took a man
Slightly larger than me
A pretty boy and body toned
Stalked him quietly
Learnt his moves
And one morning
Rammed a thin steel spike
Upwards at the top of his spine
He’s who I am
I wear him well
It’s not really me
It never is
So here I am
As driver enters - starts
Pulls off
I know when to emerge
On which bit of this journey
To end this game
This one is personal
Risky for me
But today I’m someone else
The moment is here
Snakebite of memory enters my veins
Mind ravaged by poisoned thoughts
I rise up
Reach out
Grasp
Both hands
Firm and sure
Like a potter at his wheel
Inexorably crushing his windpipe - he struggles in vain
Blocking vital air supply - he thrashes and scratches
Revenge
Make right!
“I said I’d get you”
A final lesson for a fair weather friend…