Digging up a few facts on those sweet sentimental romantic poets and writers; And you and I thought romance was dead!?!

Love In Vain- Or, Vein.

Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein
Watched her hubby from the shoreline,
Alas, for the wild and stormy poet of note
'Twas not the time to be paddling a leaky boat.

It devastated his distraught young wife
When Percy Shelley sunk and lost his life,
So before Mary cremated her sweetheart
She took hold, held close that cold cold part.

A little large for a silver locket,
A bit too big for a wee dress pocket,
And far too gross to hold in her hand-
Best placed underneath the nightstand?

She kept his heart in her bedside drawer,
Not for her brief grief, no, it remained raw,
She kept it locked inside a heart-shaped box
Amongst her dainty hankies, smalls and socks.

At first this act of sweet spousal devotion
Seemed an endearingly darkly Romantic notion,
Till for even the hanky-dabbing Widow Mary Shelley
Percy became less lingering memory, more simply smelly.

(I commented on a blog, and that comment twisted its way into this... odd offering.)

©Obbverse

Wanna be a teen screen idol? A bit of advice; Don’t waste your time.

Beverly Hills Cast Off.
Jimmy was a plain and simple dreamer,
A teen who wanted to star big in Hollywood,
To us, his few friends, there never seemed a 
Snowballs chance in Hell he would or could.

Who, he the cool suave leading man?
Pure Jackass, sure not Hugh Jackman.

Our Jim imagined he might be Elvis's twin,
Peering into the cracked mirror he thought
'Same jet hair, long sideburns, same twisted grin,'
In looks talent and stature he was woefully short.

He presumed he'd make a fine James Bond
In the dark days before Craig went blond.

'I wanna be up there with Jimmy Dean
Or a mean moody and broody Marlon Brando,
Or a Triumphantly rampant Steve McQueen
Full of mucho macho testosteroned bravado.'

Then he wanted to become like Clint-
Bit of a stretch, 'cept for the squint.

No, he wasn't destined to be the next Dirty Harry,
James met a friendly obliging girl one fine day,
Who, six months on he felt obliged to marry;
Trust mean old Mother Nature to find a way.

But I guess he we all make mistakes;
That's the way the condom breaks.

Suddenly James Taylor was no happy go-lucky-guy,
His acting plans shrank as her waist began spreading,
How now he regretted that come-hither look in her eye 
Seein' he's lookin' down the barrel of a shotgun wedding.

There's a price to pay after the fun and games,
And twins ran in the family of Sweet Baby James.

So dreams of Hollywood gave way to fatherhood
But his star-struck fantastical belief never waned,
So when Peter Jackson started shooting in yon wood
Hopes of a late season comeback were entertained.

Time to audition for the weather-beaten hero?
Nah, now Jim's even more De Vito than De Niro. 

Jim could see himself in 'Lord Of The Rings,'
Now not as a lead, but a solid supporting role...
Years and a bad marriage ravage all good things
And on bad boy Jim time had taken a savage toll.

He mightn't now look a fair maids desire,
But, bless Jim, God does love a trier.

He'd wracked racked up a fair am-dram record
So he rushed out and sent in his tatty résumé-
A video of his sad Caesar being put to the sword-
Reviews on his evisceration of the Scottish play...

The casting director saw something in our has-been;
Vaguely like a shrunken less drunken Charlie Sheen?

And so James lived the dream, be it ever so brief;
He's seen in the battle scene in 'The Two Towers,'
Second Orc on the left, he swiftly comes to grief,
But mention his bit part and he'll declaim for hours.

To deny him his Ring screen credit would be wrong,
But, like that Eternal Trilogy he goes on way too long.

 'Who needs make-up?'




©obbverse

The Santa Clarita Diet. Try it, one bite and you might find it’s good. Crazy good.

Poor Poor Pitiful Me.

Not too long ago I used to think I lived half a life;
The car, two kids, two mortgages, the dog, the wife,
Stuck on the endless treadmill of work work work,
I thought one day I'd lose my mind and go berserk.

I see now I was 'a glass half-empty' kind of a guy,
A sad sack who saw the world through a gimlet eye,
My father-in-law berated me as a self-pitying soul,
His wife told me straight- 'what a miserable asshole.' 

Abed one night, worried and awake at one o'clock
I rose and took a ruminative stroll around the block,
The streets and my thoughts were miserable and dark,
My feet grew weary but my brain continued to spark.

I was passing through the shadows of the church tower,
Deep in the dark depths I saw an eye's malevolent glower,
I was encircled and set on, just outside the church grounds! 
Do these roaming gangs of mindless thugs know no bounds?

In the darkness I could see naught but a flash of white,
The gleam of bared teeth, evil creatures of the night,
I fought bravely under their outrageous bestial attack
Till someone tapped my head and everything went black.

When I awoke my bloody head was pounding,
An alarm somewhere in my brain was sounding,
I arose from the pavement and shook my head
But in my mind a creeping realisation spread...

I discovered I could no longer focus my brain,
My fragmentary thoughts seemed half insane,
My attack proved a bit more than a minor scuffle-
Both brain and feet seemed to be stuck on shuffle.

In the pit of my miserable guts sat a hunger, gnawing,
A deeply primitive part I knew I was beyond ignoring,
On my approach I saw three pre-dawn joggers scatter-
This new Zombie shows a hankerin' for fresh grey matter.

As I shamble along I glance at a storefront window
And see a sight, in reflection, I have no wish to know,
And that last human part of me clenches in resistance,
And I know I want no part in this miserable existence.

So I'm stumbling back home where I'm hoping I'll find
An up-in-arms wife to offer me a bit of peace of mind,
I guess our shotgun marriage was doomed from the start,
Let's hope she aims for my stupid brains and not my heart.



(Obviously watching Shaun Of The Dead on top of a few tasty episodes of The Santa Clarita Diet inspired another addition to the Shlock Mock Horror genre. I thought 'why not try to see it from the zombies point of view?' At least it's a fresh one.)

‘Hey, I know I’ve changed. No, It’s not you, it’s definitely me.’

©Obbverse

True old school romance? That Thomas Hardy sure gave Tess d’Urbaville a hard life.

Ruminations 'Pon Watching Monsieur R. Polanski's Moving Picture Based Upon Thomas Hardy's Heartbreaking Rendering Of The Lamentable Treatment Of The Much Put Upon 'Tess Of The d'Urbavilles.' 

Caution Miss, if the rich young Master approaches
Offering up gilt plated hairpins or silv'ry broaches,
Don't shake his hand, shake firm your pretty head-
'Oh no sir, no engagement 'til our banns are read.'
 
Yon Master is a man who'd rather do wrong than right,
You want your wedding day, he wants his wedding night, 
Pearl earrings, gold necklaces, baubles of every kind,
But handing a wedding band... somehow slips his mind.

Master may well say he will give you everything-
Give him not a thing till he promises a gold ring,
Tess, 'tis not for your sweet heart his hand reaches,
Push his hot hand away and hold on to your breeches.

(Yes, it's a light-hearted take on a grossly tragic tale. But tragedy, humour, two sides of the same face?) 
'Tess, it's gonna end in tears.'


©Obbverse

What’s in a Valentines card anyway?

Heart Strings.

Accept this humble Valentine's card, my sweet,
Know 'tis only you who makes my life complete,
You cause my happy heart to lightly skip a beat,
I freely give you my heart- consider my card your receipt.

My love, my love for you runs true and deep,
Know I dream of you at night before I sleep,
So my love, close to your heart my love-note keep;
I'd hand you a few roses too- but I'm too damned cheap.

(Written in response to Chel Owens A Mused poetry competition.)

©Obbverse

Newly married, whole life ahead of the two of you, and then its all gone. Won’t someone tell him where he went wrong?

Misery Loves Company.

What I cannot abide
Is whatever spuriosities I spout
You won’t take my side-
My righteous words I never doubt.

I don’t roughly ride
Over the husbandly improvements you tout,
I hide my wounded pride
Behind folded arms and surly pout.

Lord knows I’ve tried
Laughing off all you witter about,
If you’d only shut up I’d
Have no need to shout.

‘Goodbye’ said my bride,
She cried ‘it’s over, I’m out,’
…Now it’s so lonesome inside
My strong silent empty redoubt.

©Obbverse.

Ah, that first crushing of tender young love. The scars fade and we move on. Try to move on. Ah, to be an automaton.

Dead Mans Chest.

I saw her here,
I saw her there,
It would appear
I saw her everywhere.

In the school bus
I sat and stared,
I dreamed of us
As if she she cared.

In my fevered mind
I looked suave and cool,
She remained obdurately blind,
Friends agreed, kind of cruel.

Then, as we passed by
A look, though fleeting
Registered in her eye-
Two pupils meeting.

So it came to pass
With one come-hither glance
That Delilah of a lass
Led this fool a merry dance.

She had her fun
Sadly at my expense,
Fair heart not won-
Her warm heart a pretense.

She left me distraught,
That devils daughter,
Without a second thought
Wrenched at my aorta.

My dreams shattered,
Much like my pride,
Left bowed and battered
Something deep inside me died.

Now I’ve a busted heart,
Broken in twain,
The only good bloody part,
It won’t break ever again.

 

 

©Obbverse

Any time is a good time to go on holiday, to travel, explore new horizons, enjoy the pleasures of warm and close companionships. Up until very recently, anyway.

I was sick of works demands,
I wished to see some idle hands,
So I booked myself a sea cruise,
Well, what did I have to lose?

A life out on the ocean wave,
A licence to frolic and misbehave,
To stroll in Speedos with tanned chest,
Pull in the gut, leave the lasses impressed.

To what depravities I sunk,
Every night in a new bunk,
My lustful life was never finer-
I love life on an ocean liner.

But come one fine morning I awoke
Feeling like when I used to smoke,
But the ships Doc’s there for such ills-
Plus, I needed more lil’ blue pills.

The Doc’s voice took on a worried note
As he peered down my ticklish throat,
And as we approached American waters
I found I was confined to my quarters.

No more late-night fun and games,
No more early morning walk of shames,
Into my teeny tiny cabin I was shown
To spend a fortnight all on my own.

I’ve got a Gideons bible and a battered paperback,
Grand Cruise brochures litter the magazine rack,
Free Living and Disney channels are all very nice
But I wish they’d arrange Wi-Fi for my De-Vice.

I don’t mind being forcibly detained,
I realise a nasty virus must be contained,
The Cap’ns bound to put in protective measures
He doesn’t care a toss about my fleshly pleasures.

Here we’re moored, off San Francisco Bay,
And what to do to while the time away?
It’s ten more days till I’m back on deck,
Idle hands mean I’ll be a physical wreck.

 

©Obbverse

 

Welcome to a blended extended thermo-nuclearly unhappy family. Not to mention, family planning.

A Few Hard Home Truths.

What a grand and great relationship
We’ve forged lovingly together,
We’ll not let our moorings slip
Despite bouts of inhospitable weather.

We’ve now been married for a year,
They say the first one is the worst,
But most who hold us near and dear
See we’re so loved-up we could almost burst.                                                                                                  ,
I’m grateful for this little home we share,
Your family is largely accommodating,
But believe me, I’ve been made painfully aware
That some pleasure in my company’s dissipating.

Every day our love grows stronger
Than it was the day before,
But, Love, it won’t last much longer
If I must abide with Mother-in-law.

I do so love my lovely wife
Yet it feels we still live in sin,
Yes, we’re blessedly Wedding Mass sanctified
But these humble walls are paper thin.

So here we are on our anniversary
And as my darling leans in for a kiss
Through the wall I hear my old adversary-
In the kitchen, hear the steaming boilers hiss?

So let’s not stay celibately in tonight,
Lets sneak out and celebrate our wedding day,
We’ll luxuriate in the Hotel Grands suite delight-
Sometimes we all need to get off and away.

 

 

©Obbverse

What did you do on Valentine’s Day? Or on Valentine’s night? Flowers just might not cut it or quite do the trick on this occasion.

Be My Valentine.

I have my love and she has mine,
She tells me of her love, deep and true,
How rare ’tis for two hearts to intertwine,
Oh, my sweet love, I give my heart to you.

I brought her red roses on Valentine’s Day,
I thought to lay them on her sweet bed,
Oh, but why is she not at work but at play?
I crushed those roses till my hands ran red.

So, my love, give me back my broken heart,
You took my trust, my love, you lay and lied,
Outside the door I hear the hopeless pleading start,
When you break it down you find we’re all dead inside.

 

PS: The car radio was crassly playing ‘Dear Doctor’- on Valentine’s Day!- and the lines ‘Help me Dear Doctor, I’m damaged, there’s a pain where there once was a heart,’ sounded ghastlily inspirational.

 

©Obbverse