h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

A*n is a long, long word now what does it mean,
Note it started with an then as it don’t go b.c d
Then ant makes a word I know its an insect small
Id is another word that sounds like Greek for me
Diagrammatic speaking , lets see what word I see
I often wonder if so large is large after all
So yes I’m still wondering if small is small at all,

Then you have macro and microscopic sight
And I know you think a telescope is used to make things bright
But also makes things bigger yes of that your right, but also too be clever
Lets turn round backwards then point back to the sight we saw before
I think that then you’ll find all was big is now so very, very small
Smaller bits are, so much smaller, they hardly seem to show at all.
How ever did the scientists see, at all before this crystal formed?

Much has been said about it, long before it was once called,
Evil as was used by witches in an all seeing crystal ball,
now we all use it for TVs and such stuff, to make it work.
And we also use some of it to decorate our shirts. We fools that is.

Round the world it's uses are varied and some they are so strange,
I’ve even heard they used some once. As means to make a flame,
Although its rather interesting, it detracts you from my point
Not that I am certain, I ever had one. If I did it was a very long time ago,
I wasn’t told the word in history but on side of pack of tea, you know.

So keep both eyes open and watch what others see,
much can be observed if memory serves you well,
nothing will escape you from this tale I tell tailed

best viewed in plain skin,

It's been quite a while since i stumbled through these parts but, as ever, it's always a pleasurable experience, especially when there's a little something in the old in-tray from your good self.

Hope everything is relatively rosey in your corner of the universe, my friend. Don't think I don't think about you often. Believe me, I do plan on catching up with your works but never seem to have the time these days. Yes, I know, the road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions but...but...but! Yes, you're right, I know, no excuses are acceptable. Picture the scene as i now hang my head in mock shame tinged with a tad of genuine regret. Mmmmm, yes, you're right again. It's not a pretty sight. Perhaps you should utilise your time more effectively and picture an altogether different scene. My long, lonely walk to the gallows maybe? No? Okay, perhaps not. Okay, I'll leave the scene setting to you. Yes, I know I'm supposed to be an artist, and I know a picture is supposedly worth a thousand words, but even a limited number of words from your good self is worth more than I could ever paint here...or anywhere for that matter.

I'll bid you another farewell for now. Mmmmm, fancy picturing a scene whereby I reach out and give you a hug? No? Okay, maybe next time.

SP

Yes it has been a while, was only thinking of you the other day while hugging toilet bowl, save you hunting around in case i unpublish this though suspect will have to change the word for "clump of earth" that starts with S ends with D with an O in the middle.
nope its there

Is this hookah pipe I see glowing
Before me the mouthpiece near my lips?
Come let's suckle on thee heavily
I have not inhaled nor deeply breathed
Yet I do see three runing piggies.
Art they not flying squad sent hunting:
To purloin my stash of home grown grass
Hidden from sight but not far from hearth
Thine whine of the copper so mournful
False impression too be-heste lawful:
Fresh face from beat. me thinks beaten when
Dress is as sixties hippie object rejects;
Thus which now'st I see is laughable:

Shall I compare thee to a drunkard sway?
Thou art more ugly and more obstinate
Rough winds do emanate towards my way.
And summer's breeze has all too hot a state:
Sometime too bright. Thye nose can't shut too tight.
Oft this pallid complexion; loudly boomed
And every smell from air at-times ignites.
By chance, or nature's changing course entombed;
But thy eternal fragrence will'nt not fade,
Nor lose possession of bags thou ow'e-nest:
Nor shall death rags give `thee sweet nose gay
When in rancid pongs to slime thy growest;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives strife to me.

I will give you that quiet, not quite quietus
quaint enough to quell a queasy stomach
neither a sonnet be nor work of art:suss
anapaests yes ! maybe better match !
Anarchist never, analysis. Mess they make
I will persist, I cant desist, my wrist
Will not be arrested. Retch if you must,
in disgust. May be just for a thrill,
throw in a sad dactyl, to make you hiss.
Up against a spondee. Yes ! that is cool,
iamb but a lamb led to the slaughter.
I ough’ta be perhaps, brought to justice:
one day I'll write perfect in black and white;
harmoninius all musical-analitic thought.
But then again my friend. All good is brought
To end with confusion. Or just the phrase
"Sod it dit dit dat dat dat"

Hiding in velveted themed ocean,
fed by tears dropped as angels cry
lived the fairest ever mermaid seen,
High from mountain top in distant sky

Felt a forsaken cold wind was blowing,
hurling acid nails through my heart so if
My ran-sacked mind now all knowing smote
questions answered from insights once that hoped

I traipsed along dead landlocked fore-shore
spat from troubled seas, dismayed grey skie’s.
adjoined to driftwood bleached by sea salt
Broken promise, abandoned lyre's

Playing somnolent sea songs mournful
In darkest caves beneath high tide mark
For the Earth often hears the moon call
when days light receded for the dark

At times like these star struck sweethearts touch
wind blown kisses taste much sweeter felt when
soft placed lips in moon spun moments frieze munch
Earth spins so slavish all still rushes then

Seas rush in clouds drift past sun kissed flowers
stretch greedily after receding sky,
Lonesome mermaid leant against rusted wreck
Dreams of mountain top where we first met.

Below in slow turmoil troubled waters
Rise and fall to what no faults are brought here
Mermaid wakes from sleep slumbers alter
Thought from dream too dreamt of Walter

Did Debussy see gleet debutante sailing,
Ivory mimics sounds of mermaids wailing
Like climbing stairs, to starlight that’s failing
Nee`r arriving persay, all ways travailing