Cool Doom in the night…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s colours are: cream, beige, cream, beige, cream, violet, cream, beige, cream, and beige.

When the phone rang and woke me at 2:49 am I suspected that it could be either one of those two annoying arty drunks, Tony Mayonnaise or Simon Doom, poets from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League, but when I picked up (as they say in the US), I found myself treated to a horrible squealing noise. After a moment I realised that it was a recording of someone playing a painful saxophone over a deliberately lumpy cymbal-filled rhythm; it was jazz…
I put the phone down, but it rang again almost immediately. The noise was now replaced by the sloppy drunk voice of the aforementioned Simon Doom telling me that he’d discovered avant-garde jazz. He added that he didn’t actually like it, but that he’d met some jazz musicians in the pub who’d invited him to join their band, and be their ‘jazz poet’.
I thought of hanging up again, but I knew that he’d phone back… He said that he’d just come up with a suitable spoem (spoof poem) for them; it was in a special time signature involving groups of sevens and eights (apparently one is to imagine a drum beat at the ends of lines 1, 2 and 3 of each verse). He said he had it in his head, but couldn’t find a pen or pencil to write it down, and I that I could have the privilege of jotting it down for him on my bedside night-time ‘ideas pad’. I wondered, how did Doom know, that I have a bedside night-time ‘ideas pad’?…

Moth-gore mandolin box-tart,
Chill-boon applicant cap-snort,
Fag-down tomahawk tug-dome,
Alp-stick butterscotch rail-dot but!
Tiddy tiddy tiddy, tiddy tiddy tiddy!

Black-fog mandarin gum-slab,
Thread-bun palpable shoe-bug,
Dig-note tentacle fig-mast,
Flock-toe monolith jig-dunce but!
Tiddy tiddy tiddy, moggy moggy moggy!

Nile-boot arable coot-bob,
Ode-bike talisman chute-dip,
Whip-goat quality shrug-pipe,
Toss-rug Fahrenheit mump-store but!
Moggy moggy moggy, moggy moggy moggy!

Simon Doom. 2015.

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in art, brain, colours, cool, existentialism, Grumpiness, humour, information, music, poetry, surrealism, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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