Throw switch, heart skips beat.
Gardening with power tools.
Frog parts everywhere.

Jon Thompson

I had a branewave.
Thobut in hope I waited,
No-one's brane waved back.

Rusty Hinge

Not a poet, me
Rhyme and metre escape me
But still I persist.


The message (mushqt8jbt2fpngpd9h7g7qsmgcrholtfu@4ax.com)
from xenophil44@hotmail.com contains these words:

> >Actually, I feel exactly *that* about all three of you.
> >The fact is: I do not knoe why you do not just establish a proper
> >coven, and be done with it; you knoe it makes scents.

> >

> Howja know we haven't?

When shall we three meet again?
Summon Telecomms and then:
Hocus-pocus, someone woke us,
What brave soul have dared to poke us?
Summon modem, dial up gloom,
Down the garding, shadows loom:
Hubble-bubble, seven spades dubble,
Billy boil and dixie bubble,
In the virtual sacred grove
Sit in Shed, round Primus stove,
Jug of BA, three PPs,
Scalded fingers, blackened knees:
Meths and candles, cobwebs, meeces,
Garden chamines missing pieces,
Where's that cauldron? Ah, eye sees,
Between our very first deep-freeze
And, wait a minute, what are this?
Well, keeping it won't come amiss:
Ho yus, that's where that hooter went
I'd quite forgotted it were bent,
Cor, annit's lost its wotsit fing,
Dilapidation, where's thy sting?
Anuvver wotsit's on the floor
Rusting quietly by the door.
That contraption over there,
That's the one, a nold deck chair,
If you think it will untangle
From the works of yon old mangle
We can clear a space perhaps
With the help of certain chaps,
Not to mention other genders,
That our spells are wont to send us.
(That's right, must I paint a mural?
Here, the other gender's plural)
Where's that compass? That won't stump us,
Here it are, now conjure Wumpus,
Coj and Thomas, Alex, Gooey,
Carl and Xenophil and Dewey,
Andrew, Helen, Austin, Mel,
Me too also and as well,
Whitedog, Linz, and many more
Crowding through the virtual door.
You'd be surprised just how much room -
Yes, squeeze in here, just move that broom -
Where was I? Ah yes, in the Shed -
And throw that out, I think it's dead -
That's made room for several more
Compliments of Shedi Law.
Now then, stranger, seat yourself
And mind your head on that there shelf.
Here comes Mike of coj's ilk,
And, shhhh! A Sheddi, cooked in milk,
Wait a bit and soon you'll meet
Someone trying to be sweet:
It's not a sago pud wot knocks,
Rapunzel, bless his cotton socks,
Is on a pudding-only diet:
It'll pass if we keep quiet.
Half the eating, twice serener,
Half as fat, that's semi-leaner.
Only Shedi think this way -
"Frotunately" did you say?
Stranger, you had better stay,
Assuming you could get away.
Some folks' specs are rosy-hued:
Frank's alas, are very rude.
And when he puts his glasses on -
It's - Innocence, where hast thou gone?
Entendres, single, viewed through those
Exit doubled, minus clothes.
Here comes Jaimie, Eric too,
Ancipital, to name a few:
There's Richard, Tamar, Vulch and Chris,
And several more I'm bound to miss.
Who are lurking by that pot?
Ah, (ducks and runs) I near forgot:
Rugrat, Sue, and (Bob and Kran,
Martin, Lizz and Jon and Fran;
Sofa shedspace, coo, here's Holly -
Now Doctor John appears, how jolly!
And others who may be at large -
Oh! Just in time: you must meet Sparge.
Oooo-eck! The Master's just dropped in:
To unremember him's a SIN.
Oh, careful where you place your foot,
Always check for hidden tqt.
Torque of witch, did I say 'check'?
Think 'red', it's curtings now, by 'eck!

Rusty Hinge

I can't unforget who did this, but the above was Babelfished through another language, and back again, resulting in:

When three to come to contact still?
Telecomms gatherings and then:
Hocus-pocus, someone has waked up them,
that spirit good has dared to hit it?
you assemble the modem, grip handle on gloom,
down garding, shadows appear in distance:
the Hubble-bubble, seven staples dubble,
boil of Billy and dixie bubbles,
in the virtual small wood sacred
is based in shed, stews round of Primus,
water jug of BA, three PPs,
barrette scottate, ginocchia blackened:
Meths and candles, cobwebs, meeces,
chamines of the garden that lack the parts,
where are that cauldron? The ampere-hour, eye see,
between our first one dept freeze
and, attend a minute, than what they are this?
well, to maintain it it will not come amiss:
the yus of Have, that one I am where that sonorous warning I have gone
I forgotted it I have been folded enough,
heart, annit lost the relative one wotsit that fing,
dilapidation, where I am sting thy?
wotsit of Anuvver on the pavement
calmly rusting from the hatch
that gadget here,
that it is that one, a chair of the platform of the nold,
if the thoughts distric
from the systems of old mangano of yon
we can perhaps eliminate a space
with the aid of determined cracks,
not to point out other kinds,
that our ortografa is not will transmit them
(that it is of right, must I paint a mural?
here, the plurale of the other kind)
where is that compass? That one not stock we,
it is here, hour evokes Wumpus,
Coj and Thomas, Alex, Gooey,
Carl and Xenophil and Dewey,
Andrew, Helen, Austin, mel,
me also and too much pure,
Whitedog, Linz and a lot
piling up through the virtual hatch
you would be you hardly surprise how much room -
yes, jam within here, just movement that broom -
where was the I? Ampere-hour yes, in the shed -
and the shooting that outside, I thinks it it is out of order -
that it is rendered to room for the several more
compliments than law of Shedi.
hour then, the disowned one, the center same you
and console is taken care of your head on that one
comes the microphone of the ilk here here of the coj,
and, shhhh! A Sheddi, cooked in latte,
attended one heads and soon you will come to contact of
someone that tries to being sweet:
it is not blows of the sagù of the wot of the pud,
Rapunzel, benedice its socks of the cotton,
is on one diet of the pudding-soltanto:
it will pass if to conserve us quiet.
half of consumption, two times serener,
half like fat person, that it is seeds-more lean
only Shedi thinks this sense -
"Frotunately" you have said?
disowned, you have had better stay,
admitting them you could obtain via
spec. of some people they are optimistic-hued:
the alas franchi, they are a lot rude.
and when it puts its innocence of glass over -
it is -, where thou of the hast gone?
Entendres, single, observed with those
exited doubled, less the dressed ones
comes Jaimie, Eric here also,
ancipital, to call some:
there is Richard, Tamar, Vulch and Chris,
and much more they are limited to the lack
who lurking from that POT?
ampere-hour, (ducks and operations) the neighbor has been forgotten:
Rugrat, Its and (Bob and Kran,
Martin, Lizz and Jon and Fran;
the shedspace of the sofà, coo, it is here agrifoglio -
hour John doctor it appears, how much allegro!
and others that can be to large -
the OH! As soon as to time: you must come to contact of Scatters
Oooo-eck! The just one of the master fallen in:
to unremember he a SIN.
the OH, careful where you arrange your foot,
always control for hidden tqt.
brace of torsion of the witch, I have said ' the control '?
tasks ' the red color ', it is curtings hour, ' from eck!


As I furtle in my shed
Where from reality I've fled
I light on divers thingies long forgot:
Old rusty garden tools,
Cracked hoses rolled on spools
And tennis rackets standing in a pot.

The atmosphere is rich:
The heady scent of pitch
Is melded there with lamp oil, paint and twine,
I really want to stay
For ever and a day,
But Mark is lurking somewhere down the line.

So, when my candle gutters
And I sink amongst the putters
A small black hole where once a bright light shone,
As for those gone before,
Oil the hinges of my door
And close the hooter quietly, 'cos I've gone

Rusty Hinge

Young Esmerelda Scilla Pratt
Was not inordinately fat.
It must be owned though, that she wore
A stone or two, or maybe more
Of tissue, known as adipose -
But where it came from, goodness knows.
You couldn't say she over-ate:
She always cleared her dinner plate
And left it empty, gleaming there
In front of her, devoid of fare.
Should Pater think to load a slice
Or two, or four, of something nice
She always smiled, and never said:
"No thank you, Pa." or shook her head:
She got on with the task in hand
And finished it, you understand
Without an outward show of greed
Or any hint of pressing need.
She liked a dish or so of meat,
And what she owned a special treat
Was pork and crackling, gravy, fat,
And loads of it, but not just that,
But crisp roast spuds and apple sauce
And spotted dick for second course,
Unless, that is, she'd had some soup,
Hors d'oeuvres, prawn cocktail, cantaloup:
If some such entrée had occurred -
It would have made the pudding third.

© R. Hinge 15/01/2003