Doom in the early hours…

But first…
Dulltown, UK/Europe: Today’s octopus is the one in the cafe sipping a grande latte and tapping away on four tablets and two phones at the same time.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

So, quite late last night (or was it early this morning?) I was cleaning my teeth in the bathroom – at first I thought that I could detect some new frequencies in the whine of the toothbrush, but as I switched off and spat in the sink I realised that the anomalous sounds were coming from the phone in the next room; suddenly it stopped. Who could be calling at this late hour?
I went in and pressed a few buttons to look at the caller’s number; it was a long one, it was probably from a mobile phone. I don’t usually call mobile numbers back, but for some reason this time I did. It was answered straightway.
A husky and rather slurred voice said, ‘I am genius – I am the Kandinsky of the written word…’
I remained silent for a good half-minute, and then the voice continued, ‘Well!… Say something… dick-head!…’
By then I had recognised the voice as being that of Simon Doom, ne’er-do-well avant-garde poet from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League. It carried on, ‘I’ve just written a really really great spoem (spoof poem) – it’s one of my best ever! I want you to put it on that crappy blog thing on t’interweb that you do.’
As I happened to have a battered antique 1970s cassette recorder with a tape in it handy (I keep it for making occasional musical notes) I pressed play/record and pause, and said, ‘Alright Wassily, I’ll record you…’
‘Wassily?…’ he said.’
‘Never mind,’ I said, as I released the pause button, and after a moment’s silence, added, ‘Speak! You dimwit!… Now’s your chance!…’
I transcribed the recording (as best as I could) for you over breakfast this morning dear reader:

One brannal queep dumlah – a’dibs!
Ponnasters, 0 – 0 – 0 – horrimont…
Swife queep swife queep swife!
Gum log, gum log, gum log, gums.

Two garroyl joop compies – a’dobs!
Terreloin, o – o – o – styke-ped…
Swife joop swife joop swife!
Log gum, log gum, log gum, logs.

Three fixaloon thelmio ebstas – a’dubs!
Lipsin-da, o – o – o – bopponate…
Swife thelmio, swife thelmio, swife!
Gum log, gum log, gum log, gums.

Four funtgope spheril dickdoos – a’dags!
Zetbow, 0 – 0 – 0 – atongy…
Swife spheril swife spheril swife!
Log gum, log gum, log gum, logs.

Simon Doom. 2019.

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 abstract, animals, art, brain, cafe, composition, creation, drama, expletives, humour, phones, poetry, style, surrealism, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Doom in the early hours…

  1. Sharon Mann says:

    Simon at his best!

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