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AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 255
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, May 23, 2003 - 5:19 pm: | 
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Plague on Robert.
I never find your verse bloody awful, sometimes very bloody but never awful.
Sometimes you even touch Blake.
And I always enjoy your humour, like the vigilantes taking down the copper's name five times in one night.
I have been in very similar situation meself and it does carry a good black humour. |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 171
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, May 24, 2003 - 5:42 am: |
|
Hi AP
I know I can get these things to rhyme, but whether they scan I have no idea. If they ever do, it's probably a lucky stab in the dark!
Ideally I'd like to do all the victims, so here's Annie.
ANNIE
"I mustn't give way" you said, Dark Annie.
You didn't - at least, not like him.
Though in darkness you knew every crevice and cranny,
His world was much darker and grim.
His desert could never bring life leaping forth,
So took he the thing that was yours.
A blighting and barren gust from the north
Descended to settle old scores.
Now stand with me, Annie, and see how your blood
Still waters the wasteland of Jack :
He is a meadow where cows chew their cud,
While you are still flat on your back.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 172
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, May 24, 2003 - 6:54 am: |
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Hi again, AP. Another Double Event.
PROBLEM PAGE
TO UNCLE ABBERLINE, FROM HELL
Dear Uncle Abberline,
Tell me what to do.
I thought that I would jab a line
To say I'm feeling blue.
My problem, to be blunt :
I have a nasty habit.
Can't see a harlot's front,
Without I have to stab it.
Addiction is increasing,
It's gone from bad to worse.
And money is decreasing -
It's emptying my purse.
There's bills for sharpening knives,
There's bills for cleaning coats.
No profit's ever made
(I don't charge for cutting throats).
Now to my consternation
I've developed Ripper's Wrist.
(I tried for compensation
But I'm bottom of the list).
I also risk the noose -
To some I may be hero,
But with me on the loose,
Police tolerance is zero.
Now is this fantasy? -
Might save a few more lives
If you arranged an amnesty
To hand in bloody knives.
It's such an awful worry,
I'm really on the rack.
So write back in a hurry
To me, yours truly, "Jack".
TO "JACK", FROM UNCLE ABBERLINE
I'm often asked this question!
The answer that you seek,
Is follow my suggestion :
Cut down to one a week.
Then as the years do roll,
You'll jump for jubilation.
Your craving you'll control,
And kill in moderation.
You are by no means charmless.
I quite see your position.
Try doing something harmless,
And rip up a politician.
Perhaps it's simple, really :
The crab must give a nip,
And birds love flying dearly -
Your nature is to rip.
But now I'm onto you -
It may be just a guess,
But have you left a clue?
You wrote down your address!
And so, to be no coyer,
Mark this, and mark it well :
Find yourself a lawyer,
For I'm off to ransack Hell.
Robert
|
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 256
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, May 24, 2003 - 12:53 pm: |
|
Robert
'Problem Page' was absolutely bloody marvellous.
An absolute corker of a poesie and I thought the funniest and cleverest thing I have seen in a long time. Audacious and precocious, I could actually see Jack and Abberline sitting down and writing their notes with grim but humourful determination to better one another at the game.
So good that I wished I had thought of it and wrote it!
'Annie'weren't half bad but the shadow cast by 'Problem Page' was too much for it.
Excellent stuff.
I too was thinking on the lines of an Abberline poem but I was going in the direction of using him as part of the London underground, as in the 'Abber Line' etc.
|
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 175
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, May 24, 2003 - 1:48 pm: |
|
Glad you liked that lot, AP. Please do your Abber Line poem. "Mind the whores, please. Mind the whores".
A few years ago I read up on the history of the Underground. It's a bit hazy in my mind now, but there were some wacky things going on.
For instance, I believe that when the first escalator was introduced, some time in the 20th century, they paid a man with a wooden leg to ride up and down it all day to prove to the public it was safe.
I think some of the earlier tube carriages were nicknamed "padded cells" because there were no windows (you don't need to see where you are in a tuunel). But the passengers rebelled and windows were installed.
And then I think there was one businessman who tried to dig his own link to his shop in Bond Street - without telling anyone what he was doing!
Robert |
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 257
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, May 24, 2003 - 2:29 pm: |
|
Sacrament-o
With what strange power
And what strange flower
By the gods forsaken
Was this black dahlia taken?
Into what strange vortex sucked
Was this flower not yet plucked?
What strange symmetry and design
Written down and then refined
Was this water turned to wine?
But work my child to some strange plan
Work you slave for Son of Sam.
Plot your jagged course with weird ritual
And stock your larder with weird victual.
Align the stars until they fit the night sky
And in that Zodiac many shall die.
For you cast your nets and fling them wide
When you part that void and peer inside.
There a red spider does weave its web
In some words that you may have read.
And then what precious little memento
Did you find in old Sacrament-o?
Funny old dish
That funny old Fish.
And peculiarly blessed
When he turned West.
To his awesome will
Of killed or be kill.
Many said that he did eat her
But that of course was Peter.
Then with what devil’s pitchfork
Was that black bottle uncorked?
Aye, it was Colin with finger round bottle
It were Colin who did that whore throttle,
With words he did it
And then he hid it.
In splendour and fame
And financial gain.
A lifetime in crime
Blood, sweat and grime.
And Jack the Ripper?
Just confused nipper.
|
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 176
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, May 24, 2003 - 3:19 pm: |
|
AP, I was sitting in front of the screen hypnotised! There truly was something mesmeric about it. Then with the last two lines you snapped your fingers and I came out of it.
I'll have to leave it a day or so before I try to follow that! But I guess I will soon be on the job again and will be sending you another bit of innerds.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 258
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, May 25, 2003 - 1:56 pm: |
|
Thank you Robert,
that one of mine came out of a fine bottle of Spanish brandy I fear... I think it were a Bocadillo 103, certainly a very creative fluid.
Look forward to your next jolly. |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 183
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, May 26, 2003 - 7:50 am: |
|
Hi AP
There are a couple of dark ones coming, but first here’s the jolly.
ACTING ON A LEAD
The Ripper case? Pah! What a farrago
For me, Barnaby, and my old pal Burgho.
Why do the dogs always get the bit parts?
Our brains could have worked out who butchered those tarts.
Cells, not smells!
Think, not stink!
The humans insult us with stereotype,
And really, it’s all just a load of tripe.
Bloodhounds? Bah! Ridiculous farce –
I don’t know my nose from my...
What’s more: Hyde Park.
Not worth a bark.
Call that a trial?
Not in my file.
We were expecting a Polish Jew foreign,
And who should turn up? That idiot Warren!
All that homework we did, all that synagogue sniffing –
They give us a duffer, of Ovaltine whiffing!
Wouldn’t dab on some scent.
Stuffy old gent!
A dollop of scent might have made it more easy,
But our preferred choice only made him feel queasy.
Instead of splashing the turpentine,
He actually swam the Serpentine!
Well, we tried to go sick, we feigned the distemper.
Warren went wild, he quite lost his temper.
I gave him fair warning, "If you run off,
We’ll lose you for sure and at you folks will scoff."
I tried to dissuade him, "Don’t do it, mate!"
In front of ten witnesses, I told him straight.
He denies it, of course – he claims I said "Woof."
Ain’t he got any regard for the truth?
So we lost him, and so’s not to feel forlorner,
I made a great speech at Speaker’s Corner.
Wandered home after terrible day,
Saw some interesting sights on the way :
Plain clothes police as poor men faking.
Lamposted the lot, got them all trouser-shaking.
It’s no barrel of laughs, assisting the Met -
I’ve had more fun on a trip to the vet.
Burgho’s booked into the PDSA.
Our union too will have something to say.
How’s this, then, for a minimum wage?
A bone and a biscuit then back in the cage.
But the thing that makes me especially sad
Is how all the humans are barkingly mad.
We led them once to a butcher’s shop.
They arrested the man! – we just wanted a chop.
Got to go,
Listen though:
If Jack should kill another old bag,
Just keep your poisoned chalice.
Or we’ll teach you lot a lesson, drag
You all straight to Buckingham Palace.
Robert
|
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 259
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, May 26, 2003 - 3:51 pm: |
|
Robert
again a beautiful romp, astounding, I love it.
I'm in Belize at the moment but as soon as I can put the rum bottle down I'll get back to you.
Loved every word of it.
You just keep getting better.
Who Burgho? |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 185
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, May 26, 2003 - 5:20 pm: |
|
Many thanks, AP. Enjoy your holiday!
Burgho was another bloodhound.
Robert |
Chris Scott
Inspector
Username: Chris
Post Number: 211
Registered: 4-2003
| | Posted on Monday, May 26, 2003 - 6:55 pm: |
|
Hi AP and Robert
Thanks to both for amazing contributions - loving it:-)
Chris |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 186
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, May 27, 2003 - 7:12 am: |
|
Hi Chris
Thank you for that! I must say it's quite a challenge trying to keep up with AP and yourself!
When AP returns from holiday, I want to try and post a gory Jack one - although, as you know, it's a bit unnerving putting yourself in the place of someone like that.
I only hope Scott Medine doesn't arrest the lot of us!
Robert |
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 260
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, May 27, 2003 - 2:16 pm: |
|
Robert
Not on holiday, looking after my investments in the rum trade. In fact, a rum do.
I reckon you are doing a champion job, and we all have different styles and views... your dark side is matched by the humourous side, both excellent.
Chris is something even darker, he picks at the nits deep in our minds.
Me? Probably on another continent when not planet.
I'm working on a belter at the moment but even I don't understand it yet. |
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 261
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, May 27, 2003 - 4:23 pm: |
|
The Abber Line
‘All aboard, all aboard and mind not the whores
Just step past ‘em and ignore their gaping sores.
Plenty of room, plenty of room
That one there has no womb.
And this one here is minus a few parts
So grab onto something afore we start.
You there! Step aside
Plenty more room inside.
You ask what the newspapers are for?
To protect your pants from the gore.
Now then, all the slaughter men must sit on the right,
Away from the journalists in case they do fight.
And please all passengers take great care
Not to tread on the police in rubber footwear.
Now you many gentlemen of lazy leisure
Who travel to Whitechapel for your pleasure,
If you would kindly leave your swords
In the trays kindly provided for the Lords.
Ah, your majesty, so nice to have you on train,
Off to Dorset Street yet again?
You’ll surely catch a pollution
And need doctor’s solution.
But don’t look cast down and quite dull
For I see you have with you Doctor Gull.
And you have tickets seasonable
Making slaughter quite reasonable.
You there! The man in cap and cape
Your arrival almost too late,
Take a seat sir, and pass me your hessian parcel
For I can see that you are a ticket less rascal.
I’ll place this in lost and found
And your ticket will be a pound.
No change asked and no change given
On this train by the very devil driven.
Good evening executive superintendent
With your mad nephew attendant.
I can tell by your broad smiles
You’re up for a night on the tiles.
First stop will be Aldgate High Street
Quick chance to stretch your feet.
Then we’ll be onto Commercial Road
Where many of you will unload
And next stop will be Bishopsgate
Where many a hungry whore do wait.
Refreshments will be served
And strict etiquette observed
And all will be most dandy and fine
When you travel with the Abber Line.
But there are certain rules you cannot flout
The management would like to point out.
These rules are quite simple and plain,
No dead whores are to be left on the train.
|
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 187
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, May 27, 2003 - 5:56 pm: |
|
AP, I enjoyed that so much I can't tell you! It was so funny! Right on target, and brilliant. We have a lot of fun, don't we, on this thread, and why not?
I've got another humorous one fairly well developed, but first I want to try and get a couple of darker ones in. Will probably post something tomorrow.
Robert |
Richard Brian Nunweek
Inspector
Username: Richardn
Post Number: 184
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, May 28, 2003 - 7:00 am: |
|
A message from Hell...
Listen to me, If you so will,
I will tell you why I had to kill,
I just hated Whores and their slovenly ways,
Dispising them, is how I would spend my days,
Then I met Marie, as fair as a lilly,
And I Told myself, not to be silly,
She was unfortunate, because of her past,
I told myself, me and er would last,
For a time we got along merry and fine,
She behaved herself ,and drew the line,
Then it happened I Got the sack,
Thats when the bitch turned her back,
She said we cannot make ends meet,
And she ended back on the street,
The fire raged within me, out of control,
I killed Tabram, then the woman Nichol
I just could not help it , I Was just weak,
I held my thoughts , and then I did speak,
I was so clever , I worked out a time,
I Killed them to fit number 39,
That was the psalm, that I had become in my head,
Every whore in Whitechapel should be dead,
Poor Marie was going to run away,
Thats why I killed her that november day,
She told me she loved me right from the start,
The Bitch lied, so I took her heart. |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 190
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, May 28, 2003 - 7:03 am: |
|
Hi AP
I'm still chuckling after your last one.
POST-FATAL ATTRACTION
"Come on, love." Hands off, for God's sake.
"Nah you ain't got the balls!"...That was a mistake.
Balls enough to squeeze your neck
Until my fingers break!
You bug-eyed, purple, evil wreck,
I'll slice your throat like steak!
I'll teach you whores to be so snide,
Laughing and taking the p*ss.
And so, you want something deep inside?
Well feel the length of this!...
...Come on, love, still don't know what to do?
Sod off, then. I can't teach you to screw."
You're dead, you whore!
Be quiet - no more.
But why am I lingering here at all?
There's something I'm meant to perform.
I am a mountain stream, clear and cool,
And her blood is thick and warm.
And the knife has a soul of its own as it cuts,
And slashes and pivots and turns,
And stabs and thrusts while the slimy old slut's
Bubbling life-blood churns.
The blade wheels and dips like a bird in flight
Over a wine red sea,
And snatches its prey with Godlike sight,
Happy and joyful and free.
Divine and graceful and calm,
The falcon returns to my arm.
"You'd better go, love. Come again, don't forget."
Forget what?...and what's this in my pocket, so wet?
Robert
|
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 191
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, May 28, 2003 - 7:29 am: |
|
Hi Richard
I didn't see your poem at first, because I was posting mine at the time.
I thought that was very, very good! I was wondering whether anyone would do Barnett. I thought the story was succinctly and directly told, and without any sentimentality.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 262
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, May 28, 2003 - 2:24 pm: |
|
Richard
neat stuff. Nice to see a poesie with purpose.
You even got your favourite number in!
I thought it commendable.
I always think the best poetry comes from something we truly believe in, and when you think about it, 99% of all poetry is about 'love', unrequited and so forth, so I am most pleased to see this new territory being explored in a way perhaps never done before. |
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 263
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, May 28, 2003 - 2:33 pm: |
|
Robert
you are combining the dark with the light here, your dark side and your humourous side, and it works nicely.
Perhaps poetry serves as an exploration of the soul rather than the being? Your latest poem certainly poses that question. Did Jack have soul and vision? Or was he just by blood driven? |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 194
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, May 28, 2003 - 6:39 pm: |
|
Hi AP
That's a tough question you ask. If I was sure that Jack left Kelly's eyes open and uninjured, I'd say "Not just blood".
But even if he didn't have a soul, I'm sure that poets will sometimes give him one - maybe to Jack's disgust. After all, they do as much for rocks, trees, rivers etc.
Which poet of yesteryear (Shakespeare excepted) would you most like to see picture Jack? Maybe it's up Ted Hughes's street? I certainly can't see Keats standing tiptoe outside the window of 13 room, trying to hear what was going on inside.
John Betjeman would have given us the maker's name on the ginger beer bottles, and the shop where Jack bought his knife.
This is a serious one, but I couldn't resist the odd joke.
POLISH JEW
I Poland come, I like it here,
In Poland bad, in Poland fear.
I happy here, I live all days,
Want be like you, I learn your ways.
I just like you, I read the Book,
Son he study, wife she cook.
I sew all day, I sew the suit,
My brother cobble, cobble boot.
Please, I try very hard...
Last Jubilee, I happy feel,
I sew a flag, we go for meal.
I dress up good, I wave the flag,
We go for meal (my wife, she nag).
I not take Mick! Not smarmy Jew!
I never steal a Mick from you.
I sew the suit, the suit I sell,
My son be doctor - great man - tell!
Please, I try very hard...
I not like drink, I never p*ssed,
Not go to jail, like Brahms and Lizst.
Not steal your Mick! Not nail Messiah!
Not bloody Yid. Not Jewish liar.
Can't think of phrase - I blue and true,
Just want to sew nice suit for you.
I save the cash, I buy the cloth,
I sew nice suit, suit fit for toff.
Please, I try very hard...
Not brick my glass! Not hurt my shop.
I not a Jack, I call for cop.
Not steal your Mick, I wave at Queen,
I Jubilee, I wave flag keen.
I just like you, I have the kid,
I just like you, not filthy Yid.
I not kill whore, I not a Jack,
I just like...I just like go back.
Please, I tried very hard.
Robert
|
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 264
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, May 29, 2003 - 2:46 pm: |
|
Robert
Best yet.
I love poesies that clip like barbers' scissors and this in a fine example, sometimes we can be too wordy, and a little bit of slang or broken English can cut right through that.
You have pre-empted me to boot, as I was working on something broadly similar, but I was going for Thomas with dyslexia.
Only Blake would have handled Jack, with brevity and levity. |
Robert Charles Linford
Inspector
Username: Robert
Post Number: 196
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, May 29, 2003 - 3:41 pm: |
|
Thanks AP. Please do your Thomas poem.
Yes, I wish I could see what Blake would have made of him - twice over, as he was no mean artist either.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 265
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, May 29, 2003 - 5:19 pm: |
|
In Kingdom Come
With what great snake bound and with what great fortune found
Do we square the round amid what great sound?
With what great spasm and in what great chasm
Is a single voice heard amongst some vast herd?
And in what vested vestal portal is a soul held immortal?
Aye, and in that looking back,
we all would touch the soul of Jack.
Not long to linger, just a finger,
Just some white powder charm
To smooth along the harm.
Just slight tattoo along our skin
Just where the skin is thin.
Something curt where something
Doesn’t hurt.
Slight incision
Of no decision.
Ah but we bound by rules and regulation
And not by slicing and strangulation.
Could we but peer into that core
And slice apple just like whore.
And after we feed
Chuck out that seed.
That do stick in our jaw and craw
And out with you damned whore.
Out with you, pestilent scum
For my will, will be done
In kingdom come.
For we sit at seat of high mountain
And drink at same fountain.
With whore’s breath doth come whore’s death.
Bah! Rid me of this bitch from hell
Rid me finally of this foul smell.
Take away the pain of this stench-ridden drain
Free me from this moth that beats at my brain
As if it were a light, as if it were night.
Let me sleep, and let me weep.
Let me have my mother’s tit
And not some mask that does not fit.
Let me be, let me see
And Satan’s breath set me free.
That stink of wife, that be my life.
I would rather not kill another
Than my own sweet dear mother
And slice me aunties throat
And drown meself in that mote
In god’s left eye where all humanity
Dies without a sigh
Or whisper without trace
As I carve finger ‘cross her face.
A race never lost or won
Till female form is undone.
Cast down in some dark pit
Where it doth superbly fit.
And centred with sharp iron
Pierced to heart in Zion.
In spit of century
And death aplenty
My will, will be done
In kingdom come.
|
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