Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 32

THE FEAR OF WASTED WORDS: Oh, hello again, Madame Imposter!

Huddled over her keyboard beneath the skylight,

She wondered whether her story might blow up in her face,

Spattering her skin with the ink of thousands of wasted words.

She’d be exposed,

Locked up once again behind that heavy door labelled

IMPOSTER

In block letters.

 

And in the world outside the real wordsmiths would shine on,

Sharing likes and heart emojis,

Collecting accolades,

And she’d hear them, typing away with giddy glee,

While she sat,

Staring at four walls,

Slinging mud at her own mind

For having been pretentious enough to dream again.

 

She took a breath.

Checked her storyboard.

Sat up straight.

She emptied the bucket of mud out of the window,

Refilled it with glitter,

And sprinkled a handful over her head.

 

Onwards, she told herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DJ BONK’S RAP

DJ Bonk is a minor character in Just Like A Movie. Nevertheless, I figured he needed a rap poem to introduce himself and explain a couple of things! Also, I wanted to have a little fun, get a little funky, you know what I’m sayin’?

I might come back and perform it later!

 

By the way, when you read it, you have to get a little funky, too. Give it a little snappy rhythm, ok?

DJ BONK’ S RAP

 

I’m DJ Bonk and I’m mighty cool

They say I was the very hottest boy in school.

My grades were crap, but not my tunes,

I started getting funky in my mother’s womb!

 

When I was a small boy I poopooed cars,

No Hot Wheels or Matchbox junk in my back yard.

Mama’s funky records - yo! - they were my jam,

She swears I boogied in my pram!

 

My teenage years they were formative (Yo!)

Back in Viareggio where I lived.

Down on the beach I improvised,

With my breaks and beats I tantalized.

 

Bikini girls they adored my groove,

They hung ‘round me and totally snubbed their dudes! (Yo!)

They made requests for cheesy slows,

For Christopher Cross and Barry Manilow (No!)

 

I’d cue those tunes, I’d make a mix, (Yo!)

I’d let them roll, dance with the hottest chicks.

I’d take them home, we’d be fooling around, (Yo!)

Those beach parties were my playground! (Yeah!)

 

They call me Bonk, the very best, (Yo!)

Those pretty ladies were always dead impressed!

I played in clubs right around the world,

And bonked me several hundreds of gorgeous girls!

 

But then one day I met Kirsten,

That mega hottie once was Miss Sweden.

The reigning Queen of Ibiza,

The White Isle’s “It girl” and diva (Whoa!)

 

Head over heels I fell for her (Yeah!)

At Pacha during Flower Power.

That magic night, well it was something else,

I think she must have used some wicked Kirsten spell! (Yo!)

 

Unfortunately, I soon got sick

With a really bad infection on my twinkie wink.

My rude old piercing got badly inflamed, (No!)

So, I fled Ibiza feeling most ashamed.

 

A Hamburg doctor finally fixed my dong,

Sing Hallelujah cuz - holy smoke - the pong!

But Kirsten threw the most almighty fit,

Calling me a two-timing randy git! (No!)

 

So now I hope to make amends,

With Gemma and Emilio’s funky help! (Yo!)

I’m DJ Bonk from sunny Italy,

And I’m gonna ask that girl to frickin’ marry me! (Yo!)

 

 

 

WEATHER FORECAST: it’s getting rowdy out there!

September rumbles in hurriedly mid-afternoon,Black clouds power-whooshingDown the Jura,Rousing a rampage of scatty winds.Prepare for the massDe-flowering of innocent roses,And the sudden, Inexplicable appearance of a multitudeOf gnarled leaves tanned to a crisp.Watch panicked yellow butterflies twirl like uncoordinatedRibbon gymnasts.Say goodbye to unpegged socks and thongs!The Swiss summer just received marching orders.Will it retaliate?Will Francesca soon to flee to Spain?Watch this space!

THE BURDEN OF TRUTH

Once again, she contemplated tinkering with the truth

If only to brighten the conversation,

But fatigue dogged her resolve.

Today, all she had was her

Gurgling, ´

Uncomfortable,

Draining

Burden of truth.

 

Today, she should have chosen absolute silence.

 

 

ILLUMINATIONS

 

I deeply despise 

The disconcerting crash landings 

That inevitably follow glittering ideas

Conceived in delusional nanoseconds

When I forget how old I am,

Only to be rudely reminded

That the tock relating to that particular illumination

Ticked several years ago.

 

Each time,

The shock is real.

 

Viva la reincarnation!

 

 

INTRUDER

Morning sunshine,

Living room

Sitting,

Calmly sorting

My femininely cluttered handbag.

 

Muffled noise,

I stand,

Move to investigate.

 

A strange man in my house.

Nervy, jittery.

 

«Good morning »,

I chirrup,

Spontaneously.

As though expecting him.

 

Maybe I even smile.

 

He mutters something.

Sketchy.

Non-sensical.

Leaves.

 

An icy snake slithers

Down my back.

My mind spins alternative outcomes.

 

Did my greeting keep me safe?

 

 

WOOL-PULLERS

They talk,

Hot air, minimum grace,

Explaining,

Chameleons playing charades,

Expert wool-pullers

Laden with artfully repurposed baggage.

 

They charm,

Shape-shifting,

Slithering through opportunities

Gamblers goading fate,

Thigh-deep in bullshit,

Eloquent in obscure forked tongues.

 

They spin doctorates,

Shaking off the chips so they may fall

Elsewhere,

On those with wider shoulders,

On the good-natured toiling trudgers

Who do the heavy lifting.

 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Esmeralda is watching them…

 

 

 

BUMMER

Today I am unsure,

Tentative.

Reversing repeatedly,

Word restless.

Pacing, circling like a dog searching for the perfect spot.

Today there is no cascading creativity, no giddy keyboard trampolining.

All I have is a dribble of drivel squeezing through a barrage of self-criticism.

 

Today is a mental bummer.

Today, I simply suck.

 

 

SUPER DONG: He’s back and he’s hardcore!

 

My eye went wonky yesterday,

A spotty eyelid, hip-hip hurray.

This morning the spots were two, not one,

Some extra work for Dr. Dong!

 

I visit Dong three times a week,

He works hard on my IBD

I showed him my sexy red eye,

He said, “Don’t worry, it’s just a stye”.

 

And then he lay me on the bed,

Shoved loads of needles everywhere.

I’m used to it, I hardly flinch,

But OMG today I did!

 

He said this session would be long,

Far stronger than a usual one.

And then he left, so I relaxed

But five minutes later he was back!

 

Yikes, I thought, this could be bad

He’s got more needles in his hand!

He also had a little wipe,

With disinfectant for my eye.

 

I cried, “What are you doing? Seriously? Argh!”

But he just needled me in the eye,

Then added some under my feet.

I said rude words I won’t repeat.

 

Anyway, I had a nap,

For a full hour I was flat out.

I jerked just once, then not again

Jerking’s bad news when you’ve been Donged!

 

When his nice colleague woke me up,

I wanted proof of what Dong’d done!

He kindly snapped this photograph,

To prove to you I’m a badass!

 

 

THE RUSH

Sometimes, she read pieces that to her sounded

Like Gossip Girl got high on AI,

Had sex with one of the Marvel dudes

And started writing a mile a millisecond without

Capitals or punctuation,

Like all zippedydoodah but fast and furious.

And then she realised she was rush-reading and saying

Wow wow wow.

But that she was already exhausted and it wasn’t even 9 am!