Tuesday, 3 February 2015

Parakeets and Chapman

   Chapman entered the room bearing a cage in which perched a parrot. He knew his entrance would cause something of a stir as his friend Keats was fascinated by all things psittacine.
   Keats leapt from his chair and scrutinised the bird.
   “I imagine you can identify the species” said Chapman.
   “Judging by its cinereous plumage I would say it's an example of Psittacus erithacus”
   “Is it really?” muttered Chapman, previously unaware of its Linnaean name, “and from where exactly does it hail?”
   “Well,” began Keats, “it used to be distributed throughout the Congo and adjacent countries, but so many have been trapped for the pet trade that there are few left in the wild and their range is difficult to define”
   “I see, so it's something of an African Grey area...” proffered Chapman, unhelpfully.

Sunday, 1 February 2015

Cowboy Hero

I would take a bullet for you
Like a good cowboy,
Not a bad cowboy
Who gets shot in the chest and dies
And certainly not like a real cowboy
Who gets shot in the face for example,
But a good cowboy
Who gets shot in the shoulder
Always in a particular spot
So as not to shatter the bone
Or sever a nerve
Or impede future movement in any way.