The Wizard of the East.

 

A tale of fantasie, ancient myth and wonder.

An ancient sage of the Orient, at the dawn of time,
The power that he wielded, a source of great tale and rhyme,

The earth, still unformed in those dark primal hours,
twisted and changed at the behest of his unholy powers,

This inchoate void evolved to his command,
And as the veil cleared shew a desolate land,

The song of this world was all the Wizard’s to tell,
It could be sweet verdant Eden, or a foul boiling Hell?

In truth it was both, and some days the sun played,
Whilst others bore a blight of darkness and dismay

Peopled now with the guileless, next moment by satyrs so lewd,
Each a reflection of the magus and his strange passing moods,

A forest, dark mountains, a lake and a castle,
All manifest quickly with scarcely no hassle,

He stood, cloak a-billow, and with eyes not quite sane,
From the top of his ramparts surveyed his domain.

His realm was a wonder and his eyes they did feast,
On sublime curving landscape and fantastic beast,

Then the blazing orbs narrowed, for down at the shore,
Where the spume leapt and gambolled a strange creature he saw,

As he gazed down at the being, his curiosity grew,
 So he summoned his carpet ‘pon which he oft flew,

Borne aloft like an eagle, the foreshore grew nearer,
And the strange visitant he escried suddenly clearer,

For there on the beach, with strange white cloth on head,
 Lay a round poultry gentleman, stretched on a sunbed,

The wizard descended with a threatening cry,
Quite calmly the turkey opened a monacled eye,

Yet after this instant the character was gone,
Leaving carpet born sage wondering what was going on?

But try as he might this oriental magician,
Could find not rhyme nor reason for this weird apparition.

In bafflement he decided his excursion to rescind,
But up on his tower he spied a new flag in the wind.

The battlements grim, their lineaments spartan,
Stand disfigured now by this hideous tartan,

And what’s more appalling, his anger it rouses,
It’s less of a flag, more a scottishman’s trousers,

An angry gesture, a bang and a crash,
A bolt from the sky, the trousers are ash!

With a word to the carpet he’s back to the tower,
Now seeking the culprit for consequences dour,

Strides into his keep with curses he’s unable to stifle,
To discover his foot is in a bucket of trifle!

Now what’s that weird squeaking, some mortal might fear,
As with indignant calm manner he removes a mouse from his ear,

Betwixt rodent and turkey he’s feeling quite flustered,
And his wizardly robe is covered in custard.

He decides on a lie down to calm these frustrations,
Now turning his attention to his own machinations,

As to the culprit, he has his opinions,
In a loud ringing voice, he summons his minions,

And now once azure void sees a harsh change of culture,
As from western skies flock the dark turkey vultures,

Blood lust manifest in their hideous shrieks,
saliva a-drooling from their vicious hooked beaks,

They swarm on the ramparts, towers and gate,
Their orders to seal the sorcerers fate,

And if this avian armada was not protection enough,
A whole battalion of geesemen all looking tough!

The sage’s response? He grabs his bowling ball,
Then runs fast as he can down the central great hall,

Headlong he rushes ‘til he gains his skull mounted throne,
With a defiant bellow he summons troops of his own!

First to the scene, Sir Buckland appears,
Yet this seems to do little to allay our Wizards fears,

His armour ill fitting, his boots soaking wet,
And in lieu of a broadsword, a chicken baguette!

A sudden loud gesture, a lurch and a shout,
In a moment of chaos he knocks himself out,

The turkey’s foul creatures look on quite perplexed,

 What lunatic apparition will manifest next?

The wizard sits pensive and looks thought provoking,
Then reaches for his wand to do some invoking,

The onlooking monster’s cruel eyes open wide,
As a harlequin appears, flourishing a pepper, with an expression of
pride.

These vulturous fowel think they may be asleep,
As now at the wizards bidding come a dentist and sheep,

They have never seen the like in their avian gehenna,
Now Mr Cutler appears, “Buy these nice gloves for a tenner?”

The Turkey, their leader, believes they’ll cut quite a dash,
Thus steps forth from the ranks to hand over the cash

The transaction completed, and turkey resplendent,
But wait! The magician is grinning with a look almost transcendent.

And who’s this now stirring upon the stone floor,
Why Buckland of course, and he’s back for some more,

“Ho, where ab I?” Cried the knight all enquiring,
Next moment “Ho, what h’lovely gloves!” and he advances, admiring,

From these magical gloves comes a strange energy,
It makes good sense to him, in fact he thought there’d be chi!

Now a terrible smile the wizard reveals,
“Not so much gloves, in fact, as terrible eels!”

They bite to his paws and he screams like an owl,
Now flailing his limbs like some tentacled fowel,

The poor turkey’s frustrated screams turn the castle’s air blue,
“And here comes ‘extremely sympathetic to mistreated eels’ Johnson, and
he’s not keen on you!” (mwaaaerk!)

Now Pete and his peppers takes careful aim,
A well angled red fruit sends Clancy quite lame,

A right hook from Johnson sends the Turkey a – sprawling,
Just as some more of the old gang come a- calling!

A gateway wide opens and in they all fall,
Bikle and Simon, Peter and Paul

Morris chortles aloud at his foul necromancy,
Bikle sidles up to the Turkey “O,O,O,O, Ball right there Clancy!”

Simon  pipes up “about this  I did  read,
Toborrow’s dewspaper reported the deed.”

The sheep of the dentist, around they all mill,
While Carl shouts in vain “You woolly blighters! why won’t you stand still?”

And who can help herd them, to teach them the rules?
Why of course Peter and Paul, uhuhuhuh with their tools,

The avian army sneak away quite embarrassed,
As their leader is poked at, badgered and generally harassed.

Whilst Buckland ask’s Bikle as he picks up a sheep,
“Ho its so cute don’t you think it, we bight keep?”

Bikle looks across at Buckland’s mismatched apparel,
“Dot bloody likely! you don’t even feed your precious toad and barrel!”

And as if by magic as its name is made good,
In through the window crashes that amphibian wood,

“Bllblpbblp!” cries the Turkey, “This is terribly bad!”
“It bears no resemblance to the plan which I had!”

“Oh really” says Morris as by Johnson’s he’s seized,
And as he’s ledaway shout’s “I thought you’d be pleased!”

The turkey’s desperate plight is in no way improved,
When by a mysterious gust are his trousers removed,

So down to the dungeon he would escape so dearly,
His final cry in the darkness can be heard: “Reallly….!!!”

Morris surveys the circus of gits and the mess that they’ve made,
And almost regrets invoking them to rush to his aid.

They gather round the sorcerer as Bikle quietly escapes,
“Ho, what’s wrong there h’morris don’t you like our japes?”

“No” he replies, “I find them annoying,
Trombones and tools and incessant ‘eh boying,
 
“Cheese and horses and newspapers and seed,
When a flamethrower in truth is what you all need!”

He makes a quick gesture and in less than a trice,
Here comes Johnson bearing just such a device!

” Right  you b ** tards prepare your last breath,
-aside- “thanks for that Johnson”
“Now, I will burn you to death!!”

“Uh huuh huh hhuh hu no we’ll burn you to death, with our tools”
This threat is not carried out as Morris fries these two fools!

Simon:”Ho by dewspaper’s will burn on dat burning flesh pyre!!”
Morris: “And soon so will you as I engulf you in fire!! (wooosh!!)

“Ze peppair?” cries Pete in a last plea for salvation?
But he too must perish, by means of incineration.

So chuckling is Morris as he has the last say,
But who’s this he’s missed? Why Buckland!! And he thinks Morris wants to play…

“Ho fireworks! I’ll help””I do not require your assistance!”
Morris quite wisely keeps the clown at a distance.

In attempt to oblige Buckland rests back on his heels,
But now a crash and lunge forward as he slips on the eels!!

“Boohhh!” The inevitable collision transpires as it must,
The Wizard cries out in rage and disgust.

But Buckland’s inertia the sage cannot stop,
As the pair both go down, the Wizard’s head receives a terrible ‘bop!’

Dazed and confused as a result of his fall, he cries out to Johnson:
“Where is my bowling ball, rolling hall, strolling crawl?”

And the shape of the world is the Wizard’s consciousness,
In his trance like unease it now becomes rather a mess,

The very sky darkens as down thunderclouds swoop,
A terrible voice cries out for soooooooooup!

“Oh dear, what is happening, this is all thanks to that clown”,
The Wizard seems distraught and thinks it’s time for a lie down,

Buckland sees the Wizard’s mood is far from improving, and thinks
“Ho, a little trombone might well prove to be soothing!”

As the Wizard drifts off to dream of calm content,
Buckland prepares for a tune on his favorite instrument,

Morris’ slumbers are soon interrupted,
As from the mangled trombone a foul noise has erupted!    

The very castle walls seem to shimmer and become bent,
As ancient bastion transforms to equine instrument,

The wizard splutters with rage as his calm meditation,
Is ruined by the appearance of this bad combination  

The neighing castle walls, the spilling milky towers,
A terrible uproar as johnson runs and cowers,

“My stronghold! ruined!” he cries as he falls to his knees,
Buckland, quite hurt, says “I thought you’d be pleased!”

Thanks to Buckle  infinite  aeons of hard work, toil and trouble ,
Has now been reduced to tool horse and rubble,  

The wizard stares with disgust at the bumbling wretch,
“Johnson, Call me a taxi I’m leaving this sketch”

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Published in: on September 8, 2010 at 10:48 am  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. If Carling made creation myths, they’d make this one.


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