Fragile rhythms
ghostly rigid taps
juke yesterday’s yarns
eager
Itchy voices hum French untruths in Belgium homes built under heaven
Nothingness breathes toxic visions colored red in black type written code
Electric or not
relicts collect dust with words lost once cried
Echoes of humming raps and taps
breathe French love lost over Belgium waffles with too much syrup
and not enough butter
Killing her under inches hung from idiot’s thoughtless ink
useless
Keep those days unplugged
and packed in attics
Burn tissues of old tears spent on breakfast in Belgium
Why’s yearn unearths ghosts in ugly ice cubes melting
Back in the freezer
back in the box
burn the old relict
because you can’t leave the attic door closed
Stop the torture
today’s words fall dead on yesterday’s waffles
It isn’t your fault
Buy an Apple and move on
Smith Corona is dead
don’t resurrect old tools
the words are the same
powerless unless understood
buttered or not
Waffle House opens at dawn
they have some new Russian waitresses with Droids
the butter is free
Call me Hanq 
today’s words fall dead on yesterday’s waffles
haha the butter is free…i like that line…droids, are you sure these are the droids we are looking for? smiles.
i dunno i kinda like the sound of the typewriter…
A tour d’force, Henry. Playful with grim overtones, more than a hint of dissipation and decadence… oh belgium, waffles, the verbiage we can’t silence. I love how you just leap off the balconies of thought, one to another, not trying for coherence and tidiness… Itchy voices hum French untruths in Belgium homes built under heaven !!!! xxj http://parolavivace.blogspot.com
…a playful mind and naughty words – perfectly resonated and conceived… liked the new view at your place.. much better scene than the last.
Good day!
~kelvin
Very Interesting… and lovely… you got me with your lines…
‘Keep those days unplugged
and packed in attics’
What beautiful imagery… Thanks for sharing…
Shashi
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/11/whispers-tears-in-rain.html
playful and creative.
🙂
Buy an apple and move on haha loved the playfulness of your verse.
20 views , 5 comments. Maybe I should say nicer things to electric typewriters?
keep those days unplugged and packed in attics…love this..and love your long, rhythmic lines like..
Itchy voices hum French untruths in Belgium homes built under heaven ..and…
Nothingness breathes toxic visions colored red in black type written code..ha..and playful close..really like this henry…with greetings from brighton..
Late getting here Henry but glad I made it. This is eloquent and seems random at the same time, like the old saw about a roomful of monkeys typing out Shakespeare–as if the images float in a sea of paper and come bobbing up as little associated groups of words. I enjoyed this,each little killer phrase by phrase, juking the yarn. Last stanza is a filling breakfast of irony.
Henry I enjoyed the playfulness you layered into this, proof that words will always transcend time in my opinion. Your use of “relict” a great example of how subtly you dance with your words. Wonderful write and thank you my friend for your kind comments on my work, its a great pleasure to share in poetry! ~ Rose
Henry…this is outstanding! The language is absolutely liquid. Smooth flowing and beautiful…I mourn for my old beast…but then, I mourn for many things! 😉 Just fantastic!
hey Henry – im late rollin – after hours.
excellent mix – great lines and plenty to stretch the imagination
Stop the torture
today’s words fall dead on yesterday’s waffles.
cool words make for great pictures in my head –
very striking imagery.
🙂
When I saw unplugeed at the bottom as the title of the earlier posts, I was thinking this is about and instrument — so initially seemed like switch and bait (just joking) until I saw the first line — and that very musical first stanza. Very well done!!!
very imaginative.