When the moonlit shores are open wide
and stars are falling from the sky
there won´t be any fancy rhymes
then I am lost for blogging times

A faceless wonder burns my eyes
theese mirrors will not hide my vice
and every time I move my tounge
then there´s no songs left to be sung

Instead of words I´ll bring you dada
or cover songs like “Da Vida Inna Gadda”
I have no storys I can tell
While we all rides this train to hell.

OOOO

You have just been showered with a piece of Practical Poetry, as Thomas Alva Edison said (on his first waxroll-recording).
Allthough the poem that time was “Mary had a little lamb”.

OOOO

Appropå “childrens poetry”, så finns flera små godbitar,
som t.ex. “Blinka lilla flädermus, undrar var du håller hus,
högt du svävar ovan dyn, som en tekastrull
i skyn…” (eng: Twinkle, twinkle little bat, how I wonder
where you´re at, you´re levitating over the rye, like a
tea-pot in the sky…” eller: The sun was shining wery bright, shining with all it´s might… and that was rather strange
because it was the middle of the night…

OOOO

Dessa båda tjusiga poem är hämtade ifrån “Alice in Wonderland” av Lewis Caroll (eller mr. Dodgeson, som han i själva verket hette).
I fortsättningen, dvs. i “Alice beyond(behind?) the looking glass”, finns ännu ett som råkar vara en personlig favorit. … så slapp off have a stiff soda and indulge in the story of:

–”THE JABBERWOCK”-

1. Twas brillig, and a slithy toves did gyre and gimble
at the wabe, all mimsy were the borrogoves
and the mome raths outgrabe…

2. Beware the Jabberwock, my son, the claws that
bite, the jaws that catch, beware the jub jub-bird
and shun the frumious bandersnatch…

3. So took his vorpal sword in hand, along the
manxom foe he sought…
(manxoms var fastlandsinnevånarnas namn på folk från Isle of Man, som dom av någon anledning avskydde.)
…so rested he by the tumtum-tree, and stood
a while in thought…

4. And as in uffish thought he stood, the Jabberwock
with eyes of flame, came whiffling thru the
tullgeewood, and burbled as it came…

5. One and two, and thru and thru, the vorpal
blade went snicker-snack, he left it dead, and
with its head he went gallumping back…

6. So thou has slained the Jabberwock, my son,
come to my arms, you beamish boy,
Calloh, Calley, Oh Joy, what Day, now, as the
Jabberwock is gone…

7. repris:
Twas brillig and a slithy toves did gyre and
gimble in the wabe, all mimsy were the borrogoves and the mome raths outgrabe…

OOOO

(what the hell is a mome?…)

Nåväl, för att inte göra er plåga allt för
lång, så finner jag det nu tillrådligt
att avsluta denna något bleka blogg

So from all of me, to all of you:
Goodbite and don´t forget to trekk well
and prosper… ever yours truly
Freddie Wadling (in the year of the pig)

OOOO