Spiteful Ode to a Butter Fly

Butterfly, damn butterfly.

You're not a real butterfly.

You're just a normal fly,

which sat upon my butter

that's why I'm gonna now,

I'm gonna fetch the swatter.

And I will surely avenge

my now infected butter,

for it's the only thing

which in my life does matter.

You sat on my left cheek.

Some say it is a bless.

But if on me I hit you,

my own face I will mess.

So go away fly,

go away.

Spit down on your path you lay.

I don't want you in my kitchen

and I hate your buzz to listen.

I don't like you as a pet

You're just here for my nape's sweat.

Did I get you?

Did I not?

To find the body I cannot.

So I sit on triumph's verge,

while you, from behind emerge.

And you fly to the next room,

cunningly delaying your doom.

Fly you toadfood!

Fly you cunt!

I will get you when you land.

* * *

* Traditional anti-fly song by the peoples of Swamp Cukoucukacou, during the first Swamplordiness election. The toads won that time, with the mosquitoes coming very close, contrary to the general belief that the Electric Racketman has always claimed lordship.

First published in Kernel Kiki's 1894 poem and song collection, titled “Silliously?”

 

Once Upon in Al' Dah Kash

Once upon a time, there was a sultan who was mostly stingy and enjoyed counting his money and numerous possessions more than anything.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 5

The manor was not the most pleasant of places to be alone in.

Theodore was slightly rocking, silent on the chair. Outside, in the absence of wind, the rain was falling vertically along the surfaces and it sounded so orchestrated, so even, like a sequence of notes repeating over and over. Lost inside a reverie of new-found realizations, shades of mystery and dread emerged to darken his mind. Like pieces in a dreamed-of puzzle the memories came together, creating menacing, strangely familiar shapes.

He remembered now; the man at the bar.
What he had said.

The Intermediates

This is the place where all the important things happen.

So they told me at least.

I didn't argue.

I've been coming here for years, but it didn't get any easier with time.

We were given a space to be and a seat to sit. Next to each other and still invisible to all but ourselves.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 4

 The room wasn't particularly spacious and the thick beams on the ceiling hanging a little above Theodore's head made it look even smaller. The decoration, before it was furiously altered, involved bookcases filled with leather-bound books and a collection of various academic tools, from pens and compasses to telescopes and astrolabes. Now, everything lied on the floor with most of the items beyond the state of a simple repair.

He approached the desk which had been briefly cleared from the debris and sat on the rocking chair as the man before him had suggested.

“My name is Jebediah Code” said the man and offered a wrinkled hand in greeting. “I'm glad you received my letter.”

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 3

A subtle light slowly crept from outside and the slight adjustment in illumination woke Theodore up.

He reluctantly got off the bed and moved his still slumbering body towards the window. Under a dense ceiling of gray clouds the city was already awake. The streets below crawled with people, crafting, trading, strolling around as much as they could, before the skies cracked open once more. His over indulgence in liquors last night had provided for a devious bowel and a nice headache, so he poured some water on his face to consolidate his senses. As he saw his dreary reflection in the water-bowl, he tried to gather his recent memories to figure out some possible reason to grab the day by the sideburns and not call in sick.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 2

The rain was still pouring outside, but the heat of the fireplace and the chaotic chatter of the customers dispelled it from Theodore's mind. One of Rumporth's more questionably decent taverns, The Handsome Devil was cramped this hour of the day. The owner of the place, always sitting behind the bar was definitely not handsome, but he did possess some undefined devilish quality.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 1

It was around sundown. Although, sun rarely visits these parts.

The light filtering through the dark blanket of clouds was fading and oil lanterns took its place. Heavy rain was pouring down like God's rods, crumbling Theodore Hold's constantly malfunctioning parasol and aptly revealing him to be as out of place as he already felt. A chapel was nearby. He stood beside a weather-beaten cypress tree, part of a small congregation of figures surrounding a hole in the ground. Funerals always made him uneasy. It was the people there. This one, luckily, was attended only by a few.

Knights' Nights

There once was a knight

who always at night

sad poems he wrote

to deal with love drought

After much thinking

and certainly drinking

the knight left the bar

to go really far

for some sort of quest:

To slay evil monsters,

be on all WANTED posters

Be rich,

kill a witch

Save innocent people,

help even the cripple

Don't be like the rest,

but only the best

He drove across plains in his shiny white Porsche

(Some say it's unfitting, improper and silly

And nobody thinks it helps jousting really

But goes so much faster than the traditional horse.)

And he battled for a king

who was known to be just

for it is the common thing,

like they say it is a “must”

Liberating helpless people using pointy battle forks

swording through the trolls and goblins and especially the orcs

So he did all deeds of valor

Even he became a sailor

to explore all magic places

see all kinds of different faces

But despite trying a lot

little pleasure to him brought

for the hollow in his heart

had not found it's missing part

And he watched night skies alight

while sad poems he did write

* * *

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part Six)

 They stood for a moment looking at each other trying to adjust their minds on the curious encounter they just had. The girl seemed lost in her thoughts, but her big almond-shaped eyes looked calm and aloof, like she wasn't really surprised by what had just happened. Ovolon noticed this and spoke first.

“You seem like we didn't just met a God. Have you ever met one before?” he asked with a half-fake inspecting tone.

“I don't think so.” answered the girl.

“Aren't you surprised?”

“Well we met someone who claimed to be a God and who gave us a map to the end of the world. It is what it is.” said the girl and gave him a smile like all the cares and the burdens of this world were not enough to smother her optimism.

The Gentle Process of Letting Go

Floating on the surface of poorly done leftovers

down inside a toilet above the septic pipes

there it sat comfortably among the yellow waters

a little brownish blob of captivating flies

To defecate he thought it was to decompress

he hardly ever needed to stay in there for long

but solid as a rock it came to suppress

his ass' fartly song

He moaned and blushed and pushed with steel determination

to lead his constipation to total termination

Suddenly wishful thinking began to form a mass

As echos in the room produced uncanny gas

Coming from somewhere between the poor man's hairy ass

He startled jumped and loosened his body's bottom hole

and saw his makings down there, looking them as a whole

The turd stared back at him and there he had a hunch

Granting him specious information about the latest lunch

Corn and tomato colored with shades of fresh cut spinach

Should he consider eating for next time a packet full of peanuts?

He got up, cheered a bit and then he started flush

Hitting the shite he had delivered, holding a toilet brush

Thus having executed complete evacuation.

Now savors of a feeling of utter relaxation.

* * *

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part Five)

The sun was already up, having emerged from between the distant sand dunes in the east. The girl watched Ovolon as he was packing their things to go. The look of him; crouching, carefully stuffing everything inside his backpack, with messy curly hair and an unshaven chin, reminded her of monkeys eating lice from each other's backs.

“Ahem, so where to now?” she asked in a faked serious tone and tried to hide a giggle as Ovolon turned his head and looked at her with confusion.

“I thought you knew!”

“Nope. No idea what to do now. All I knew was that we should hurry get inside. I don't even remember why. Maybe it was just a hunch.” she said as she strolled around him, with her hands behind her back and her head looking up the sky.

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part Four)

It was early in the morning and the moisture in the air was still thick bringing drifting odors into Ovolon's nostrils. He stoop up from the rock he was sitting and took a stroll around the area, stopping casually to examine his surroundings. Downhill he could see the Great Path passing between the hillsides which formed it, making it bend like a snake heading towards the stony mountain gorge which led away from the familiar meadow. He didn't know what was beyond it. He wanted to go, wanted to know, but he had always postponed this. Fear of the unknown maybe.

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part Three)

“This was nice. We can meet again another time and have more fun” said the girl leaned to the right a bit in a charming little bow.

“Sure, we can go to places.” answered Ovolon.

“Yeah, do things! Explore the meadow. Discover the whole oddness and the rareness and... and the indulging personalities that we'll meet” she said and her voice gradually became a murmur and her glare drifted to the sky lost in the reverie of imaginative possibilities. “Anyway. Good day for now”

“Have a nice trip. We'll meet again for sure” smiled Ovolon and did a courteous bow himself.

She waved at him and turned around taking the road to her home along with her blue friend.

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part Two)

For a long moment they stood before each other staring in silent blinking of the eyes. Ovolon had indeed quite a few sagittarian ages to witness such a beautiful sighting. I totally wasn't expecting this, he thought and suppressed a feeling of instant elation, turning it into an unnoticeable shudder. Her hair were long and curly and delicately covered the better half of her breasts. Just enough to awaken primitive instincts in his mind, which were asleep and forgotten since when, even he could not remember. He noticed her gaze was in a way a mix between apprehension and curiosity, but she too seemed to welcome this unexpected meeting.

Christoffer

Christoffer came back today.

I saw him in the cracks between the door and the wall.

He had come for the first time sometime around May. I noticed him on the wall behind my desk. It was only for a moment when I saw him, I blinked and when I looked again he was gone. He must have entered through the window blinds, it had started to get hot these days and I kept the glass open most of the time.

That night I said it was just my imagination and went to bed, ignoring the little cracking sounds I kept hearing before sleep took me. Must be the dogs in the yard turning around in their cage, I thought.

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part One)

Ovolon lived under a tree just at the edge of the greenless meadow. His tree was wrinkled and unblossomed and no nests had been built on it. In fact, birds were by years now, gone.

The girl with the magical hair lived under a tree just at the other edge of the greenless meadow. Her tree was also in no good shape. This one though, had a little hummingbird nest. And the little blue inhabitant rarely flew away.

Winters passed and the meadow was covered in snow up where the eye can see. In the nights with no rains or snowfalls, with no clouds and the big moon blazing the field alight, all the stars could be seen. These nights, both Ovolon and the girl would look up the sky.

Goatlegs

The train was sliding on the rails like a dizzy snake.

Outside - roads, buildings, trees, people. Nothing seemed to ever be changing in this world. Especially people. He knew that much. There is always a pattern towards their innermost desires and motives. All one has to do is find the right buttons to push and he could end up with an inflatable rubber doll to push around as he wishes.

Of Wood, Voodoo and Llama (Part at Last)

Woodsie Woodsie Die Woodsie got up.

With heavy steps he approached the great tree, picked up the tomahawk and held it in his blackened hands. The rain kept falling in the jungle, soaking everything in a murky veil. Echoes of thunder came from the distance, as white cracks of light formed on the horizon. He loosened his grip on the tomahawk and let it slide down in his hand. It fell with a thud and hammered the ground with its weight.

Of Wood, Voodoo and Llama (Part the Third)

And so The Three began their pilgrimage to find Oji and seek his help.

The problematic part of this quest though, was locating his hut. Oji was a curious creature who had a really short attention span and an aversion to monotony. That taken into account, it's justified why he moved his house from place to place whenever he felt like, making it really difficult for anyone to contact him. But the three pilgrims were old friends of Oji. Back in the Days of Awesome he had shared with them words of voodoo and a handful of his secrets. He had taken each one separately and trusted them with knowledge concerning the locations of three hidden doorbells.