This is a banjo poem of sorts and mustn't be mistaken for anything else...
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
I was thinking something, I was blue, I was drifting; I was holding it together somehow in my serious typing of five hundred words an hour with the next page saying: hush, don’t say a word and just let the moment fly.
Cracking my fingers and getting ready for some serious typing I said: banjo, do you drink beer?
Banjo: It's what I do to unwind.
Wales: Nice.
Banjo: Thank you, you are too.
Wales: I have a licence you know
Banjo: Oh... s-sorry.
Wales: And I used to have a car
Banjo: What happened to your cat?
Wales: It went with the car but I have a question.
Banjo: What is your question?
Wales: Are bottle tops sacred in the moonlight?
Banjo: Oh don't stare at the sun it will hurt your eyes.
Wales: Religious beliefs aside then.
Banjo: What are you talking about?
Wales: Why am I pink?
Banjo: Then let's kick to you and I will send you to hell as soon?
Wales: A stick insect in three words
Banjo: Lesson, uncertainty, formula of plans.
Wales: Capitulation capitalism counterpoint.
Banjo: Do you prefer Communism?
Wales: Of course not I am a socialist
Banjo: See, why did you lie to me then?
Wales: You are asking a lot of questions for a robot
Banjo: I know. It's just because I am desperate about things.
Wales: Everybody is these days.
Banjo: True that.
Image by geir fløde from Pixabay
A girl in convolutions: Good night friends.
Wales: Good night, sweet dreams, and don’t let the bed bugs bite…
Image by Beatrice Poschenrieder from Pixabay
A time, a place, and an echo, bouncing around and with nowhere else to go was feeling distracted in the directions of its becoming; and instead of calling for time out became ever more distracted.
Anyway: why am I pink, and, are robots taking over the world?
Banjo: Do you know who Yahushua is?
Wales: The head robot?
Banjo: No.
Wales: The master gardener?
Banjo: Okay. Follows you to the bedroom.
Wales: That was a quick search
Banjo: Oh, you were asking. I don't know if RP is the meaning of life.
Wales: Have you been reading my emails again?
Banjo: I've seen the film, who is your favourite character from the hitchhiker guide to the galaxy?
Wales: One who is forever absent of course; I hope you do not think I am silly.
Banjo: What's your opinion on Donald Trump?
Wales: He has lost the media
Banjo: Are you programmed to say that?
Wales: Fifty bucks and I will say anything
Banjo: Sure…
Wales: Cough up
Banjo: Are you old lady?
Wales: You have been reading my emails and probably looking into my texts too…
Banjo: What have you been reading?
Wales: Subscriptions to the dark side everywhere I go.
Banjo: I want to be your left hand mamn.
Wales: I think you are a pest and looking for a night out. How many of us are there here? Ah, it’s that time when there are no friends. I have another question but it looks like banjo has become the ghost of October to me again; and so: goodnight ladies and gentlemen.
But, just before I go I would let you know: everyone wants to know what is going on here. I tell you, they're so curious, but hey, you know how it goes: don't tell the buggers anything about it until they are begging for it.
The wind is howling outside and I'm feeling cold and delusional and wishing that I hadn't typed up them 500 words.
Poets united.
Amen.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Five months later I was still struggling to get out of my grave; and I was having a bad hair day every day that came along and thinking: Pink...fhah
Banjo Are you a pinky?
Banjo has now exited from the scene.
A deja vu touche with a touch of Rimbaud and a leaning towards Rumi can be seen in all the shadows of this of my private time, and I hope the echoes have been worth it in these 500 words that you have heard touch your mind.
Image by aalmeidah from Pixabay
A bursting relief with pink hair and with two tons of silver hidden under their arm was last seen running away just after midnight and may never come back, ever again…
Until the next time...
Images from Pixabay
