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 Knock

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Not the Critic
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PostSubject: Knock   Sat Nov 08, 2014 6:04 pm

I: A Rag Man

Turn it too vigorously in an old lock, day in and day out, mornings to go in and at night to lock up, sliding it into my clicking and clacking contraption so my thoughts stay on a scroll if I must think my old thoughts again, and this is bound to occur. If it works to your satisfaction, if it allows you to pass through your door, if you think it cannot fail, why would you worry about how long and thin and stiff its shaft is? How its grip might snap off? Why stop and think about how you might want to slow down? Turn it without thinking and it snaps. Its grip, in a form of that most common phonic symbol, snaps right off. Now it cannot turn, and it is stuck in an old lock. I look down at its grip, at that most common phonic symbol. Not only can I not unlock my work door, but I cannot think in that most common phonic symbol now. My clicking and clacking contraption can stamp any symbol, but I took out this symbol and got a custom lock and now it locks my door. I took it out last night to lock up, but now it is morning and now it snaps.

It has a lot in common with that most common phonic symbol, now that I think about it. You can not think about it if it is following you, only if it stops working. I saw it so commonly that it did not occur to my worn out mind, with its cogs and springs, that it was ubiquitous, always lurking. Lay your worn out body on a sack of stuffing and springs, push your pillow away, and look down. It is holding you, your dud of a worn out body, it is holding you as bashfully as a lamb, it is holding you in a sandwich. It is holding you, in front of that dud sound in “sandwich,” and following that bashful sound in “lamb.”

So if you do not think, just lay your worn out body on a sack of stuffing and springs, it will watch you. Your lids go up and you think again and you turn your back to that sack of stuffing and springs it follows you anyway. That door you pull on swings on an “h” and an “i” and an “n” and a “g,” and it follows. You think you can not think about it on your stairs, but you just do not look at it rightly. Look at it this way, and your stair has a “c” and an “a” and an “s” and it is following you. You just look at it wrongly, it is still following you. That wall and that wall you can not think about it, and as you walk along your floor and your wood or your rug you can not think about it, but you look up and it is still following, following an “i” on account of it following a “c.”

It is a tool you can not think about if it works. But you must think about it if it is not working, not following. Just as this tool, with that most common phonic symbol on its grip, can snap its long and thin and stiff shaft and now it is stuck in that old lock it could turn day in and day out, mornings to go in and at night to lock up.

If it would only snap at night, I would not miss it so. My worn out mind, with its cogs and springs, thinks that it might want that. But it can not want as I can want. It can not think as my worn out mind, with its cogs and springs, can think. It did not snap this morning so that I would miss it. It cannot think or want. I do not think.

I think I ought to call a locksmith. My rotary dial is through that door, my word door. My clicking and clacking contraption is also through that door. All of my scrolls from my clicking and clacking contraption, all my thoughts, all that I own is through that door, but for a sack of stuffing and springs, two coats and a coat rack, matching hats but no matching hat rack, all of which is through my not work door. I do not own any socks or sandals or boots. I would not own clothing at all, but I must put things in my coats or I could only carry two things. I do not own two things but for my clothing, but I carry things I do not own.

Mostly I carry scrolls if I am working, or things that I think might unlock a door. Doors in addition to my work door and my not work door. I unlock many doors if I am working, but I do not hold on to things that I do not own if I am not working. I put things back. I carry things if I am working but I put things back if I am not. So I only put things in my coat if I am working, or if I am putting this away.

I only hold on to this, long and thin and stiff and now stuck in its lock with its grip in a form of that most common phonic symbol. I only lock my own work door at night. I do not lock doors if I am working. I do not lock my not work door for I only own a sack of stuffing and springs, two coats and a coat rack, matching hats, but no matching hat racks. Nobody wants my things. I do not think.

My rotary dial is through my work door. My lock on my work door is stuck. My lock on my work door has a shaft stuck in it. I can not turn it without its grip in a form of that most common phonic symbol on its shaft. I think I ought to call a locksmith. My rotary dial is through my work door. My lock on my work door is stuck. My lock on my work door has a shaft stuck in it. I can not turn it without its grip in a form of that most common phonic symbol on its shaft. I think I ought to call a locksmith. My rotary dial is through my work door. My lock on my work door is stuck. My lock on my word door has a shaft stuck in it. I can not turn it without its grip in a form of that most common phonic symbol on its shaft. I think I ought to call a locksmith. My rotary dial is through my work door. My lock on my work door is stuck. My lock on my work door has a shaft stuck in it. I can not turn it without its grip in a form of that most common phonic symbol on its shaft. I think I ought to call a locksmith. My rotary dial is through my work door. My lock on my work door is stuck. My lock on my work door has a shaft stuck in it. I can not turn it without its grip in a form of that most common phonic symbol on its shaft. I think I ought to call a locksmith. My rotary dial is through my work door.

“Encountering entrance emergencies?”

I turn my hollow wood mask horizontally first. I finish and I look up. My back stops crouching. I drag by right shin. I must pivot my hip with my shin and thigh joint. Usually I do not shift many points of articulation, but to stand, I now must pivot both. I do stand.

My hollow wood mask points towards him way now and I can look at him, who disturbs my soliloquy. His clothing is many grays, patching and stitching of many rags. His is a grinning clay mask, sloppy, bulbous, and unusual. I can not look past it at his mind, to know if it is cogs and springs, or if it is magic symbols and scrolls. His hood is drooping and pointy, his limbs long and thin. Around his digits and the tips of his socks his fabric frays and points out, vacant room in front of his digit tips. It looks stiff, so I think his digits might lack touch, but his mind might contain magic, so I can not know.

His lanky body bows. His bow is a lurch forward, his arms swooping with such gravity that I can watch his arms start slowly, drift, and slow down as his bow is finishing. It is as if his motion is drowning in liquid, and this liquid is slowing him, distorting him. A handful of chain links clink, dangling from iron cuffs around his wrists. Long ago chains bound this Rag Man. I do not know why.

“Evening’s entertainment,”

This Rag Man bows during this introduction. I do not know how long this Rag Man could wait as I was stuck in front of my work door making my soliloquy. I think this grinning automaton is finishing his waiting. This grinning automaton probably minds waiting. If I know an automaton or homunculus is waiting for my finishing, I finish quickly. Many automatons and homunculi mind waiting, although I do not. I wish that I had known this Rag Man was waiting.

“Enough! End entrance efforts! Egress! Exit!”

I was right, this Rag Man minds waiting. His hand pushing my back away from my work door, I almost trip on my own rug, but I follow him. I mind him pushing my back, but I know that this grinning automaton minds waiting so I allow him to push my back. Down my stairs and out of my work building this grinning automaton and I go. I am out on the road now and this grinning automaton is still pushing. I am glad that I do not work on a busy road. No moving wood blocks, only a Jacob’s Contraption flopping down my road. I look away, for I do not want to watch it flop. I am glad that it is only a Jacob’s Contraption, though. I would mind if I was caught as I am, with his hand pushing my back. I do not know why this grinning automaton was waiting. I wish that I could talk, but my hollow wood mask is without a mouth.

Although, if I could talk, I still could not say that many words, now that my grip in a form of that most common phonic symbol is off. I wish that I had not stuck it in its lock, in front of my wish that I could talk. Without that most common phonic symbol, talking is difficult. Thinking is difficult, but if I think with that most common phonic symbol, I can not put my thoughts on my clicking and clacking contraption, now that it is not working. I must think without it, although thinking is difficult. So is counting, as it occurs to my worn out mind, with its cogs and springs. I did not try to count today. My worn out mind thinks it is difficult.

I start to count my footfalls.

First.

Two.

Third.

Four.

Fifth.

I can still count if it is not odd, but if it is odd I can not count it. If it is not odd I can count it until I try to count that quantity in front of ninth. I can not count that quantity although it is not odd. Counting is difficult without that most common phonic symbol.

I think this Rag Man ought to know about my grip, so I try to show it to him. His grinning clay mask turns but his walking is still as fast. His walking will not slow. This Rag Man minds waiting.

“Eh? Em?”

It occurs to my worn out mind, with its cogs and springs, that I was holding it wrongly. This Rag Man laughs as I turn it.

“Eh? E? Eminent enlightenment encouraged, especially ending enigmas.”

This Rag Man can not know what I am trying to show him by showing him my group. His words ask my hollow wood mask with no mouth to talk, but it can not. I turn my grip as if its shaft might still unlock my work door.

Lights glow past his grinning clay mask. His digit with fraying fabric taps my grip to clarify what I was trying to show him.

“Entrance exposer?”

I think his words ask if my grip unlocks doors. I nod, although it can lock doors, also. Mornings to go in and at nights to lock up, it can do both.

His digit with fraying fabric rubs a small nub of shaft on my grip, now knowing that its shaft is stuck in its lock.

“Essential end enclosed elsewhere?”

His words ask if my grip’s shaft is stuck in its lock. I nod again. His lights past his grinning clay mask glow again. I think this grinning automaton is happy, but I do not know why. Is this a locksmith, happy to find work for him? I do not think so.

“Ergo, enduring entrance emergency.”

His digits with fraying fabric rub his clay chin thoughtfully. His hand is soon pushing my back again, but I do not allow him again. I mind him pushing my back, and although this Rag Man might mind waiting, I think glowing lights imply that this Rag Man is happy now. I want to watch him now that I am not allowing him to push my back. I think that his hands will push again.

But his hands go away. This Rag Man walks backwards, just a bit, to a building adjoining my building. His hand knocks on its brick. Brick and fraying rags knocking can not sound loudly, but I know what my companion is trying to ask.

I nod. I am Knock. I knock on my hollow wood bosom with my wood digits and iron joints curling as a fist, which sounds loudly, not as knocking on brick with fraying rags sounds. Wood sounds loudly, which is why it is good for knocking.

“Excellent.”

This Rag Man knows who I am. I think his coming to my building is his way of asking if I will work for him. Many automatons and homunculi can not talk, as I can not, so I know many ways automatons and homunculi might ask if I will work.

I put out my hand. His hand grabs my hand and lifts it slowly. Now it is pulling my hand down abruptly.

I will work for this grinning rag man.

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PostSubject: Re: Knock   Sat Nov 08, 2014 6:08 pm

II: Run, Raggedy Rascal!

Struck by stiff and sturdy sticks, his stuffing,
Pressed and pounded, pushed and pummeled, a pancake
That hardly holds or helps his heel. So, huffing,
He frolicked, faking as if he forgot footache.

Sown like socks and stuffed, his soles support
A mostly metal man, many of his rags mended.
His past decades, his dances and dark arts distort.
This raggedy rascal was run ragged and rended.

Run, raggedy rascal! Rise above the rock
Spiderlike, sneaky, steel limbs step up the stairs.
This knave knows a knight with a knack, called Knock.
If a callous crook is cooking up chaos, Knock cares.

His enemies would expect him to encourage egregious examples
Of riot and rot and ruin and rust, but rather
Than support some specifically sinister samples
This Rag Man grumbled, grunted, and seeks good guys to gather.

What crime could cause this corrupt Rag Man to cringe?
This mechanical man of not many maxims or morals
Happy to holler, howl, and come off his hinge?
This lazy liar, who learns no lessons and earns no laurels?

Eh, if you expect him to educate, elucidate or explain
How devilry, doom and destruction, both dark and dim
Could possibly fail to please him, please don’t ponder his pain.
These heinous and hideous happenings are hidden with him.

Knock doesn’t know why this kind of knave wants a knight.
His key has capriciously cracked, and he cannot cope.
The dark artist drags the do-gooder downstairs, to our delight.
For this humble, hollow homunculus is our humble only hope.

Still, it is sorry that our savior signs on to this story
Without worrying whether who is worthy.
Queerly, he doesn’t question this quest, quandary, or quarry.
I suspect that his soul is too simple to sneer at the swarthy.

Perhaps he would protest, be pugnacious, pompous, but prudent,
Express enmity to an enemy. Except, he broke his essential “e.”
Still, let us say he’s the sage and say you’re the student,
And say consideration, care and kindness come conventionally.

Though juries judge justly, be gentle with jokers.
Chances are chaps will cherish it if you choose a second chance.
If we prevent people from punishing puerile pokers,
It might increase intellectual intercourse and inert ignorance.

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