Robert de Bonbon

A room-based person often seen writing stuff down, but only by people in the same room.
My fictitious brothers Richard and Edward question me endlessly.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

Ah, 2023! My veins were full of ink and my hair was springy and portable. I keep it in a bag near the phone in case I need people to believe I have springy hair.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

Green ink is even worse. I thought it would be healthier but I am told I have been ranting non-stop for months now. I have been very good at hiding in woodland.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

It's been a while. I'm told I was spaced out on ink. Apparently I drank so much I turned blue. I can write with my fingers. I appear to have written "All over the walls" all over the walls.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

This chicken I'm chomping is champion.
Its tissue I'm cheerfully chewing.
Heating and eating the chicken I hated
Made throttling thoroughly thrillingly.

#poem finalPart

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

The chicken I'm chucking is clucking.
I'll stop it with decapitating,
Then prepping with plucking and gutting and basting.
I'm hasting my way to a tasting.
#poem part3

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

The chicken I'm checking is pecking.
The pecking is fecking provoking.
I'm thinking of chucking this chicken I'm checking
Into a cooker for cooking.
#poem part2

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

I'm checking the chicken's not choking.
I'm choking the chicken I'm checking.
This checking is choking the chicken I'm checking.
I'm wrecking it's neck in this checking.
#poem

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

The day is young. The sky is dark.
I got up before the lark.
The air is cool. The streets are clear.
I've yet to have a pitch to queer.
My heart is light. My step has spring.
The start of day's a splendid thing.
With vim and hope I'm on my way
To yet another dismal day.

#poem

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

I was booed on stage and cheered off at last night's poetry reading. It felt appropriate.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

Met a chap named Sizzlehands. I could not warm to him. That thing about being able to cook sausages simply by holding them, even if it were true it would be an impediment not a boast. He says he only ever touches raw food. Lilly said the more he said the more sick she felt.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

I am surrounded by poets and poems and yet nothing sounds like poetry to me. I tried to write about what I now - croutons, Bangtwat hammers, being in the wrong decade - but it is such rubbish I can barely read it without drinking more ink. I think I may be drinking too much ink.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

Woke up in a pool of ink, surrounded by words. What is going on? were the first four.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

I smell so strongly of ink people have started to call me Squidy.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

I picture myself on an unexpectedly busy train. I head to Warrington Bank Quay. A man is working, loudly. He's not the loudest. So many people. Then I remember I am in 1960s Belgium, living in a garret in the town of Garret. Garry is the mayor. I smell of ink. My heart slows.Phew

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

I smell of ink, I am told. Lily says it is not an altogether unattractive smell, but it would be improved were I to add an underlying smell of paper. I think she doubts my work ethic. I do not want to tell her I have been writing on cotton as it is a surpise.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

#MySocksMyPants

My curtain-rich socks, you can pull them apart.
To draw them is frightfully easy.
My cotton-roach pants, can be smelt from afar.
Close to they will make you feel queasy.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

#OhDearDeer.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
Except to deer, whose poor eyesight
Sees a fire as thing of green
And so the tiger stays unseen.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

Lily's poem "Squat Below a Garret" had the poets singing her praises.
"Brilliant!" sang Garrrrrr. "And I say that as a dreadful sexist."
"Yes," sang Garethetta. "Better that that idiot's idiotic nonsense."
I think there may be many more squats below a garret in the coming days.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

My #poem "Whoa, There!" did not make the poets of Garret think again:

Does everybody's confidence
Need to take a dent?
Assuredly. Undoubtedly.
One hundred precent.
A modicum of self-belief
Or less, but never more.
There are no certainties in life,
Of that, I'm pretty sure.

[Robert de Bonbon @RobertdeBonbon]

We have been seen using the flat below the garret. Garry is furious, I am told. Gary says that Garretta says that Gareth says that Garrina says that Garry wants us expelled. Or sent to the sculptors' end of the village. Tonight's reading will be cut short to discuss our fate.