The Death of Rats

No legs stands on four legs as two legs stands on three, no legs jumps on four legs, the two then leapt on me;

Cassock for a haddock, penny for a salt;

Pudding asks the greatest questions-

Why is this my fault?

Where has gone all the little children today?

They're under the haystacks fast asleep while the world goes away.

Bitter Butter Battle Bobble Bubble Boggles the only way for thee.

Why?

How?

Because.

Wear?

Wai?

Hew?

Beacons.

Weir?

Oi?

Who?

Vicars.

War?

Guy?

Hue?

Teacups.

Wore?

High?

Few?

Tickets.

Ware?

Fly?

Cow?

Sickens.

DEar diary,

Met lots of new faces today. Good runners, most of them.

Found hole in cloak. Not sure what from. BinkY>? Attempted to patch. Sewing difficult without thumbs. Everyone here rubbish with a seam.

Shoulds ask Rose; she seems good with fabric.

Still not sure how to opertare postal system. Nuisance.

Priest to the left side of the priest of the priest to the left side of GGPN's bloody dustbunnies STIll making messes about. Can't seem to drop em- who kills these??

Bollocks. Must go piddle in Zool'sshoes.

That always turns a day around.

Sincerely,

Ever seen Magical Shopping Arcade Abenobashi? Yeah. It's like that.

MOAR!

I have a hat that's full of fleas

These won't suck your blood,

they'll only eat your cheese

There is no fun in my hat,

you see, the playground

was demolished when

the circus went to sea

I have some pants

so full of cats

I frequently climb trees

Til the fire department comes

to get me down

just in time for tea

I once knew a man who could talk only with his hands.

 

Now I don't mean to say that through his hands he made his point known through gesture or signs. No, for this man to communicate with his fellow living beings he merely had to place a hand on them and they're feelings would exchange. It was communication at its most basic. No silly misunderstandings over complicated things like tone or grammar. There was never an instance where his words were too difficult for anyone nor too simple. His exact meaning was conveyed every time, with no misrepresentations and no barriers. And I shall never forget that man. Not because of his odd method of conversation, the world has seen far stranger things than a man who could talk only with hands. I will remember him because when we parted, he took my hand in his and told me that he loved me. .....

I never saw him again after that, but I still think of him evcery time I touch my toes.

Wandering under Harmony's legs and eyeing (...socketing?) its new scythe thoughtfully, The Grim Squeaker fades in and out of mortal vision absently.

Then, in a rustle of cloak, it dashes forward, on spying an unlucky mouse who had felt that the large red thing had now provided enough distraction from the corn to make a go of it.

It heard a strange humming, a 'Snicker-snack!', and then the world went pinwheeling up and around it, and it had occasion to regret that he and the wife had argued just before left tonight.

Does feel summat unfinished; though not in bad way- it's very prologue-y. Not specifically in the story sense, or epic, could easily be used as either...

but yeah, the message is very clear- and it reads as "hope is lost, even all the way into heaven, the enemy is winning over all"...however, you leave a lot of questions: Who is the enemy? Why are they winning over everything, perhaps even God (as slightly hinted at in "Do you hear the Angels cry?

Do you hear them scream and die?

I do....

In the Heavens high above...

I hear their plea;

"Please! My God, let us be...."), Why does everyone, except the speaker (the narrator is firmly involved as oon as you put in "I" in his speech, and his tone stays very neutral after that) despair their chances of winning?

None of those are addressed at *all*, that I can see...not that you have to reveal down to the last detail, this is poetry after all, but *some* answer would be welcome.

*nods sagely*

SQUEAK.

Now comes our newest poetess

into our quiet vale

Pouring the the product of her pen

into a silent spell

So tearfully seems she to think

as she scribes her verse

that as not what could be,

it is all a waste of ink

That loses my perceptions,

it goes against proverb.

Or am I the only one been taught

That's for beholder's words?

Say how do ya do

and shake pants

like you've got insects in 'em

Shuck and trim and cut

and pop and cook

all that way around the clock

Jump like a cat

trot like a horse

just move yourself around that floor

go man, go

grab your girl and swing

to beat the second hand

you've got all the world

to dance across and sing

the only limit's time

watt in wander

ink stains hour

aye moor then

darkness bud

stare Incan too

the son four

watching awl

Thaddeus Will

all ways over

lode what good

halve bin

---------------------------------------------

The Grim Squaeker snaps tiny finger appreciatively.

Porpoise seeking purpose

has better chance than eye

of hearing the state of bee yin

and snake and urchin lie

1. [male pennite]Falcon2001

2. [female pennite]Annael

3. [adjective]unruly

4. [another female pennite]blondemoon

5. [adjective]farfetched

6. [item of clothing]cravat

7. [adverb]adverbially

8. [almost dragonic product]Wyvern's ego

9. [adjective]hoarse

10. [creature]sheep

11. [adjective]tiny

12. [body part]brain

13. [yet another female pennite]dragonqueen

14. [sickness]polio

15. [event]Saint Nicholas Eve

16. [shape]rhombus

17. [speed]35 mph

18. [feeling]consternation

19. [body part]toe

20. [game]Parcheesi

Where we are going is where we are is not where have been today is the day after tomorrow two days ago I had hope and today I still do a good turn daily feed the birds tuppence a bag lady in waiting to exhale exhale exhale...

The Death of Rats noted Tamaranis' gaze, and raised its' foreleg with thumb and pinky fingers extended, and waggled the hand in greeting.

Tamaranis had given up long ago trying to determine which the small aspect truly had: toes or fingers.

The Death of Rats grinned.

Meanwhile, the Death of Rats walked off in a tiny huff toward Minta and her projects. The young gnome seemed an unending font patience (it'd tried to rile her many times, but to no avail), and for a mortal, she was always full of interesting surprises in matters of how to process passing away.

Besides, nothing bad ever happened around her.

Degorram felt a repetitive prodding in her soul. It didn't hurt, but it was very like being lightly poked over and over with a pencil, but in the core of being, instead of the flesh.

Looking around rapidly, she soon discovered the source of the irritation. The rat skeleton clad in a black, hooded robe, was standing at her heel, prodding her over and over in the soul with the tip of a tiny claw, as if in rapt fascination with the result of each poke..

She glared down at it, and turning upwards in response, an eyeless, lipless face contrived admirably to look sheepish.

Meanwhile, the Grim Squeaker seemed to be busy guiding the tofu dogs out of this mortal coil.

As the small scythe flashed again and again from it's wielder's perch atop the carefully stacked non-weenies, the magi and other magical types glanced over occasionally with interest; who knew tofu had an afterlife?

Free food, as always, though, was much more engaging.

It became quickly apparent to the twins that the fireball hurtling through the sky was not, in fact, a shooting star, after it impacted with their backyard, neatly missing all the party decor, and raising an impressively tall plume of dirt.

This conclusion was readily reached once they could observe the thing up close, for two reasons; the first of which was that meteorites are not shaped very much like the letter 'U' (not to mention do not seem whitish in color under all of their char), and the second of which that meteorites, of the wishing upon variety, or otherwise, are not known to carry passengers, and most especially not passengers who briskly dismount their transport, give their black cloaks a quick, fastidious brushing, take a up a very small scythe sized to fit their own small stature, then greet two unassuming backyard barbequers with a little wave of their free paw, and a hollow yet somehow convivial, "SQUEAK."

Corbal had a hamster.

Hamster had a cold.

Corbal said to hamster,

'Stop eating all the mold!'

Krenkel had a turtle.

Turtle had a hat.

Krenekl said to turtle,

'Where did you get that?'

Trechle had an oven.

'I'm hungry!', oven moaned.

Trechle put in

Turtle, Krenkel, Hamster, Corbal.

Then the oven glowed!

Bertice Small and Bertice Tall

Father, I shoot with my hand

Father, I kill with my gun

Father, I cannot remember

Bertice Fat and Bertice Thin

Lady of the dark and light

The wild and desolation

fuels my yearning for your touch

Bertice, Bertice Round again

I am gunslinger

I am ashes I am pillar

I am vessel

I am warrior

I am lion I am child

I am enovy

The stories are alive again

Thru unimagined subtle source

As should and shall be evermore

Rejoice.

March 25 Twensday

do something bad to priest to the...

...

...

...

Snypiuer

notfy Nanotoknonnen

figer out how "postal system" operates

take bath

Mon Mar 2021OcT

Today.

Sarpen sythe

meet famly of mice under basent stars

get ridng cat

take bath

praktise with spraypaint

(find smaller cans)