October 24, 2012 by Sez
OK, So I’m a big copycat. I saw Mark Grist perform a (better, longer) univocalism called Fens last night. Here is my first attempt at one called ‘Moor’. (I’m a Yorkshire girl after all) .
EDIT: It’s longer now.
Cold swoops on t’moor. Storms howl old songs of sorrow, of folly, of loss. Cold fog blows, holds spooky forms, shows Poor Flo’s story. Long, hollow gloomy. So, look.
Only two, Flo’s joy is songs. Mom croons. “Don’t stop!” coos shy Flo, “Song! Song!” Mom knows lots of songs: of joy, of sorrow, old songs, cool songs. Mom’s songs hold Flo, show Flow worlds. So Flo holds Mom. Croons, knows joy.
Too soon, Mom’s old. Songs flown, Mom looks ghostly now. Mom’s hollow, gloomy. Flo shows Mom old photos. No.
Mom’s body rots on’t moor. Now, Only Flo croons old songs.
Now, Bob. Cool sod! Oh how Bob shoots off his gob. How Bob robs loot, lolly, dosh. Not poor, old Bob, no! Crook, not fool, Bob hooks goods, fools hoods, shoots folks for dosh. Bob’s no good, but Bob’s cool. Bob’s hot. Bob’s got lots. Downs cold Scotch, Bob’s stronghold’s old gold. Own Rolls. So, not lots Bob’s not got.
Flo knows only songs. So Flo croons for loot. Not lots. Flo’s poor. Croons songs for folks, body on show. Bob spots Flo. Flo looks, swoons.
Bob’s lost. Coo-Coo for Flo. Bob won’t shoot, won’t loot, no hoods. For Flo, Bob’s good.
Now cops know Bob robs. Bob scoffs. No cop’ll fool Bob. Bob hops town. Bob’s off. Cop’s don’t follow. Cop’s don’t know of Flo, on’t moor.
Flo won’t go from t’moor. Mom’s tomb, now.
So Bob’s now sold stronghold, gold, Scotch, Rolls for Flo. Oh! How Bob moons for for Flo, swoons for Flo!
Flo don’t know Bob’s shot folks. Bob broods. Looks on Flo: oh, shy, coy, doll. Now Bob’s moll? No! Bob’s ploy: Flo won’t know. Not of Bob’s old job, not of folks Bob’s shot. No.
Ghosts of shot folks spook Bob. Old wrongs prod Bob. Bob looks hollow. Bob’s sorrow glows, grows. Bob’s no fool. Bob knows to go from Flo.
“Oh, don’t go!” Sobs Flo, who knows Bob’s not known for pomp. When Bob’d woo Flo: no blooms, no songs, no loot. Only Bob, Bob who longs for Flo. So Flo knowsBob won’t go. No?
Oh, how Bob fools Flo. For Flo only knows Bob’s story: Bob’s cool. Bob’s good. Bob boosts Flo’s joy. Bob’s God to Flo. Bob’s got to go.
“So long, Flo.”
Flo howls, “No, no!”
Bob’s not god nor holy, no, nor good. Bob’s low. Bob’s lost. Bob’s hollow. Only Flo shows sorrow for Bob. Only Flo sobs. Bob’s sorrow grows. So now Bob knows: No show, no pomp: only go from Flo. Jog on.
“Oh no, don’t go. Don’t go!”
Bob knows to go won’t show Flo Bob’s folly. Boots on, Bob shoos Flo: “Got to go, doll, don’t howl so, sob so. No show of sorrow. So long.”
Storms howl on’t moor. Bob’s boots go down on soft sod. Foot throbs, Storm won’t stop. Bob’s cold now. Fog – frosty, soggy gloom – holds Bob. No howl, no sob from Bob. Only, low, “Sorry Flo”
Flo sobs, rocks to, fro, to, fro. Longs for Bob. Croons old songs “My boy, My boy, My only joy” Sobs for Mom, for Bob,
Flo knows Bob’s on’t moor. Flo’s got old now, longs for Bob. Good Bob, cool Bob. Holy, godly Bob. “Soon, soon.” croons Flo. Don’t go for so long , my boy, my only Bob.” Not only Flo, now. Flo’s got Toto – poor dog –howls on stoop. Flo coos –good dog, good dog. Toto howls for Flo, now. Flo’s dog.
So Flo holds Toto. Looks, won’t stop. Sobs for Bob. Dog howls,Flo croons on’t moor.
“My Boy, my boy”
Flo’s loopy. So old now. So long, so long, Bob Told Flo. Oh, so long! Flo sobs so!
Only got Toto, poor old dog, to worry, now. “Good Toto. Good boy. Howl for my Bob. Spot Bob on’t moor. Soon, oh, soon. Good dog”
Flo’s dog howls. No cry from Flo now. No song, No sorrow. Nowt. Flo’s off to Bob.
Only Toto now.