Saturday, 3 January 2009

Meat and Plastic in the Lost Hour

Mr Shubhashish Golder was kind enough to many months ago compose a poem for me to turn into a comic, this is a task which i have for one reason or another postponed for along time, now I shall commence. Here is the poem plus some preliminary drawings

“Meat and Plastic in the Lost Hour”

A plastic hand to the right wrist,
The meat one buried by a fox,
Chewed fingers and a nibbled fist.

One special night, when the moon is bright and the sky is foggy
The clock ticks on the lost hour and
Both horrible hands come alive feeling drunk and groggy!

The meat hand wriggled out deep beneath the apple tree,
The plastic hand climbed from a bedside box,
Now both the hands were alive and free!

Into the house, up the stairs to his master's bedside
The meat hand returned, and would no longer be alone,
As he had found the plastic hand to be his bride!

Both hands rejoiced in each others palms
Together, they could travel here and afar
With very little matter that they had no arms!

Without eyes, tears could not be wept
Without a mouth words could not be spoken
Together they departed as their master slept.

The Meat hand lead his bride, now out of the grave
To the bathroom, down the stairs and led her to a razor
And with the foam she'd use to give him a shave

The stubble annoyed as he lay in a ditch
The blades trimmed the hair close to the skin and
Finally his Palm and fingers would no longer itch!

The turn of the Plastic hand had now come
And to the bedroom dresser, led the Meat
Towards a bottle of polish to paint her thumb

The meat hand painted each fingers' nail
And used the hair dryer to ensure they
Were smooth and shiny without fail.

The unwelcome clock chimed the passing of the hour,
The meat hand would return to his grave,
Without the Plastic hand, his precious little flower

The Meat and the Plastic hands were no longer near,
Sadly, the Plastic hand returned to her wooden box,
To await the Lost Hour, the following year.

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