Papa Was A Rolling Morlock / Will Dockery (draft)

[Will Dockery]

Papa Was A Rolling Morlock

Clicking his flashlight
working old mimeograph.
Big old man eyebrows
arching wiry robin frost.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Purple ink dandies
hairy futuristic Brits.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.

He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.

Working underground
fiddlesticking in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacle toffee.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.

All this for the Eloi
Englishters on the surface.
Her one true love
died before she was born here.
Her best friend
doesn't even exist yet..
They are not there unless
she remembers them.

Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.

Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.

-Will Dockery (via & thanks to H.G. Wells)

--
Gone Too Far / Dockery-Mallard-Snipe:
http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/11596860

[DoubleV]

Post by Will Dockery
Papa Was A Rolling Morlock
Clicking his flashlight
working old mimeograph.
Big old man eyebrows
arching wiry robin frost.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Purple ink dandies
hairy futuristic Brits.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Working underground
fiddlesticking in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacle toffee.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
All this for the Eloi
Englishters on the surface.
Her one true love
died before she was born here.
Her best friend
doesn't even exist yet..
They are not there unless
she remembers them.
Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.
-Will Dockery (via & thanks to H.G. Wells)

what's a crabbed picture?
and are they having intercourse during the poem
when he picks her mind, I read the story
but it was oh so long ago.

[Will Dockery]

Post by DoubleV

Post by Will Dockery
Papa Was A Rolling Morlock
Clicking his flashlight
working old mimeograph.
Big old man eyebrows
arching wiry robin frost.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Purple ink dandies
hairy futuristic Brits.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Working underground
fiddlesticking in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacle toffee.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
All this for the Eloi
Englishters on the surface.
Her one true love
died before she was born here.
Her best friend
doesn't even exist yet..
They are not there unless
she remembers them.
Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.
-Will Dockery (via & thanks to H.G. Wells)

what's a crabbed picture?
and are they having intercourse during the poem
when he picks her mind, I read the story
but it was oh so long ago.

Thanks for reading... and finding this poem, Vic!

The "crabbed picture" is the image the female lead (not named yet) sees in
her mirror.

And yes, there's a bit of hanky-panky going on there, as well.

--
"Over You" / Will Dockery & The Shadowville All-Stars:
http://www.reverbnation.com/play_now/song_13207558