It was 2,30am in Ilfracombe on holiday with friends,when I first put pen to paper. I had found my medium, not large, to express the mush going on in my head. The floodgates have opened. This was first up


The Taming of the fork

Both my hands have been there for me all my life,
Putting food in my mouth using fork and knife,
Any job given to them they found easy to handle;
Lifting a heavy weight or lighting delicate candle.

Over the years my left hand grew jealous of the right,
Lefty never forgave brain for not being chosen to write.
A campaign plotting revenge; lefty he began planning;
Disrupting brains system used for message handling.

A long campaign finally breeched the brain owner’s door,
He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s at aged forty-four.
His left hand trembled; he stuttered when trying to talk;
He shuffled his feet and couldn’t even turn his fork.

With the help of alliances, and a mercenary; brain reacted
Brain’s Liberation Front; a rearguard action had started
Developing a series of weapons; brain found a super drug;
Repaired all communication lines; even a system to de-bug.


Brains battle for control, ‘success’, it comes and it goes.
New weaponry; sometimes needed to vanquish all his foes.
A treaty is being discussed by Brain; placed on Lefty’s table.
Control of fork has been returned; but no future is ever stable

© Phil Golding 25/10/2006