The mystery of the missing half roll

Forget poor Yorick, I knew him not

my concern is directed to another much more recent departure.

I left my hotel room this morning

a little dishevelled, slightly unkempt (the room that is, not I)

bed unmade towels hanging where towels are wont to hang

I knew that upon my return, courtesy of the “clean me” card i hung on the doorknob

that the room would be restored to its original state of order,

cleanliness and straight lines brought to the space I left

organic and unstructured.

What I also left behind me was a half used toilet roll

a roll with many sheets to offer the individual in need

of such papered assistance, scrunched or folded

it had plenty left to offer me and I’m sure it’s trailing sheet

could have easily been folder into a point for my convenience.

But no, this toilet roll and I were to have no further adventures

in its place a brand new roll, unsullied by previous use.

What became of this roll, was it given to staff to take home?

Was it packaged up and sent to persons in need to pint sized ablution assistance?

Was it sold off in a seconds store at half price?

Alas, I don’t know the answer, I wish I did

the mystery of the missing half roll.

If I’d taken a photo I might be able to mount a search and rescue mission

but I did not

I could of course ask the hotel, but that would destroy the mystery

I’d ask Dr Google, but I’m not quite sure how to frame the question

Any assistance with this would be greatly appreciated

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mosquito

no sound no noise betrayed its flight
as it flitted around all through the night
when i began to stir come morning
there it was, like a flash without warning
i flapped, i clapped, my arms flailing about
its clever evading caused me to shout
a spin and a miss as i twirled on the spot
my arm coiled like a spring for the fateful shot
standing high on my toes to make myself tall
my palm falling with speed to go splat on the wall
elation and joy though quickly turned to disgust
as i beheld a smear on the wall a reddy brown rust
my victory short lived for my blood had been spilt
the mozzie now dead, died sated and filled

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moon

i look out
i look up
at the clouds
as they move
from right to
left, obscuring for
a brief while
the smiling face
of the man
in the moon

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Impediments 

The blind may not see the sunrise 

But they can feel the first warming rays of the sun as it begins its journey into the sky 

The deaf unable to hear the aural symphonies can delight in the timeless vibration of the music as it transmits through vibration a message as old as mankind 

The mute who can’t offer a sound are able to send their message loud and clear into the world through a myriad of media 

What then of those enthralled by the iWorld, truly unable to appreciate beauty or bask in the glow of experience unless through a digital filter? 

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Betrayed by my own ears

I made the mistake 

Of opening my ears 

It mattered not 

That my eyes were 

Still clamped shut,

Sealed tightly against any 

Light threatening  to creep in

My ears began to accept 

Aural input 

And like water 

Sluicing through a turbine 

Forced my previously slumbering  consciousness to awaken 

To begin processing and making sense of the world 

Wake up eyes 

Came the rallying call from my  brain  

There’s a party for the senses 

And your presence is required. 

So it was I came to be awake 

Laying here in the post dawn light 

Betrayed by my own ears

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red man

red man
tap tap
tick tock
red man
tap tap
tick tock
red man
tap tap tap
tick tock
don’t you know how fucking important i am?
tap tap tap tap
tick tock
tap tap tap tap tap
green man

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Bed

So I had somebody ask me the other day which side of the bed I preferred to sleep on, now being the kind of person who likes to give a long convoluted answer when a much simpler one would do, I launched into this
“Well now that all depends on your point of view, I like to sleep on all sides of the bed but I guess if you pressed me for an answer, I’d say on the left, now when I say the left I suppose I should clarify, I’m talking about stage left, you know what I mean, when you’re actually in the bed and the head is behind you and the foot down where, well you know, where your feet are, I’m on the left, as opposed to the audience left, that of course being the left from the point of view of the audience, you know the audience, all those people who stand around at the foot of the bed watching, from their point of view I’m on the right”
At that point I looked up from my explanation to discover that they’d gone, I guess I should go for the shorter version next time…

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not backwards

walking out backwards
can’t see what’s behind
because you’re not facing
you’re practically blind
you step into nothing
reaching out for firm ground
if only you were bat-like
could rely on the sound
a shuffle, a stumble
a clumsy misstep
with a turn almost graceful
you begrudgingly relent
now eyes looking foreward
in the direction you’re bound
you can stride with some purpose
your goal has been found

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The words 

The words they make me happy

The words they make me sad 

The words they build me up 

And tear me down 

Some words are used by others  

Some words  are used by me 

They’re thought of,  written down 

And verbalised 

The words are all around me 

They’re scattered on the floor  

They’re here,  they’re there 

They’re everywhere 

Until that is the words 

They are no more 

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Same same, but different

There’s a certain sameness
in difference,
a difference
in sameness,
mass individual rebellion
renders a new norm,
nobody notices
the bright red nose
and oversized shoes
at a clown school,
who sees
the individual droplet
in an olympic-size pool?
context as always
is key

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