Stanley

what’s in a name

~ jim clayton ~ 1 Comment

we were coming back from the copse
(not CORPSE
of course
a copse is just trees
a corpse is a job for the police
or ‘cops’
but I’m afraid that’s where the matter drops)

anyway

Stanley was lagging
dragging
his paws
why?
I wasn’t sure
we’d had a good long walk
me shooting crows with a camera
Stanley using his nose with stamina
so it wasn’t as if
he was miffed
we were coming back sooner than we shoulda
and he’d have stayed out longer if he coulda
and he didn’t have a thorn in his paw
(I checked all four)
and I was pretty sure
he hadn’t torn
a ligament
he just stood there looking innocent
all in all it was quite a predicament

So – and I can’t believe I’m blushing –
here’s the thing:
Stanley is a dog of many names
some of them normal, some of them strange
it just depends on how the mood takes you
and how the hound currently relates to you
so, standing stuck with him there on the pavement
I said ‘c’mon sweet nuts’ as a means of encouragement
(where it came from I’ve no idea
he hasn’t had nuts for a couple of years )
anyway – all this would’ve been totally fine
if there hadn’t been another guy following behind
‘not you, the dog…’ I said
the guy shook his head
and hurried on
and it was only when I was sure he was gone
that I tugged on the lead and struggled on
(it’s really beyond embarrassing, Stanley
some names are better off kept in the family)

STANZILLA!

~ jim clayton ~ 3 Comments

A trawler first saw it
snagging its net
and when they went to draw it
two giant paws
roaring
out of the sea
tipping their ship catastrophically
klaxons wailing
the crew frantically bailing
trying to start sailing
the other way and failing
till the engine smoked
the dragline broke
and they made their departure
heading for harbour
arguing
about what the hell it was
that burned out all their gears & cogs
a submarine or an octopus
but rising up behind them against the moon
they learned the answer all too soon
STANZILLA!

we come to know
in a cliche flashback episode
ten years ago
a maverick scientist
Miko Tempest
ignoring the risks
slipped T-Rex DNA from fossilised ticks
snuck it away
to make
an unholy merger
with a long-haired lurcher
called Stanley
recently adopted by her family
she filled him fulla dope
steroids, tripe sticks, radioactive isotopes
in their boujee, hi-security villa
on a private island east of Manila
and her efforts bore fruit
with the cute
but mega-monstrous brute
of subsequent international repute:
STANZILLA!

one day Miko
leaves to go
to Tokyo
to sell shares in her biotech portfolio
so
she leaves the dog with her mum, Takako
with strict orders not to let him out
of their high security island redoubt

but a tornado
unexpectedly blows
lays the place’s defences low
and before Takako
knows it
the gate’s in a state and she can barely close it

social media
are immediately
fulla clips
blurry radar blips
shaky footage shot from ships
some kinda
paddling monster
says the news announcer
heading north
estimated course?
Tokyo
why? the guy doesn’t know
nor do the experts in the studio
but Miko
watching from a noodle bar in Ikebukuro
shakes her head and says uh-oh

offshore
a mile or more
and closing
rhapsodically nosing
the fresh Pacific spray
rapidly paddling his colossal way
through the waves
STANZILLA!
barking at following naval flotillas
as governments gamble
and fighter jets scramble
from air force bases
fear in their hearts
& masks on their faces

despite their dire firepower
Stanzilla’s driven by a higher power
he quickly makes land
takes a subway train in hand
derails it
rice flails it
up against the skyscrapers
which fold like rice papers
captured on the phones of city traders
cowering in pipes & smoking craters

Miko
asks to speak to
the Head of the Armed Forces
who of course is
only too pleased
to see her
and an hour or so later
Miko takes a helicopter
fuels it up and flies
up through the sombre, smoky skies
giving the controls an occasional flick
to manage the tanker-sized chicken & tripe stick
swinging seductively under it

STANZILLA’s nose
twitches, goes
into overdrive
he dives
to get it
but forget it!
Miko swoops
in tantalising backward loops
heading back out to sea
STANZILLA! following helplessly
splashily
all the way home
where Takako’s made lunch and a landing zone

eventually, in conclusion,
the government passes a resolution
lifting all threat of prosecution
for the terrifying, city-wide destruction
if Miko gives them the rights to production
of her super-sizing formulation

and so
as things currently stand, you know
Miko & her mum Takako
live a sheltered kinda life, although
their island’s now a tourist hotspot
where people pay to take selfies a lot
leaning out of the cherry-picker
to get the most spectacular picture
Me & Mr:
STANZILLA!

The Old Writer & His Muse : A Grimm Tale

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

There once lived a hoary old writer
who typed away at his bench
from late in the morning till early lunch
and the rest of his time on Twitter

He wrote a terrible kinda novel
self-published as an ebook on Amazon
muttering away with his glasses on
in the bedroom of his hovel

The years slowly and sadly passed
Scarcely a reader read him
And the lack of an audience upset him
till one day he finally lost heart

‘Oh how I wish I was a literary seer!
and people devoured what I wrote
I’d go to Hay in a cashmere coat
And a golden Karmann Ghia’

A passing fairy heard his cry
and tarried awhile at the casement
She looked inside with amazement
at the woeful plight of the guy

‘I will send him a muse!’ she said out loud
to no-one in particular
raising her wand perpendicular
and vanishing in a glittering cloud

In her place leapt forth a giant dog
as wanton and hairy as a wolf
and it landed with a galumphing woof
on the writer’s disreputable rug

‘I shall name thee Stanley!’
said the man, somewhat dazed
(although why he wasn’t a lot more fazed
is scarcely credible, frankly)

Stanley was charming, funny, good-hearted
and inspired the man to write verse
which as you can see was even worse
so he was pretty well back where he started

The fairy came back when her schedule permit
straightened her tiara and said ‘Meh
Obviously there aren’t any guarantees, yeah?
Especially with writing and shit’

The fairy flew on before he knew it
I mean – usually her magic totally rocked
but sometimes you just have to accept you’re blocked
shrug and leave them to it

full lurcher jacket

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Stanley Kubrick
was another famous Stanley
and although he was a dogged worker
he wasn’t a lurcher
which would’ve been difficult, understandably
as Stanley Kubrick’s hands were more handily
adapted for working cameras
or figuring out the lighting parameters
than Stanley the lurcher’s galumphing great paws
which are cute and all that but have certain flaws
especially when it comes to focusing a shot
so were there ANY famous directors called Stanley who were also a lurcher?
probably not

The Zen of Stan

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Sometimes when I look at Stanley
sprawled on the sofa magnificently
as relaxed as any dog could reasonably be
arrestingly manifesting his destiny
doggedly, whole-heartedly
well – I’m filled with jealousy

he’s not worried about global warming
governments being reliably appalling
the cost of living soaring
nuclear countries warring
viruses swarming

how many likes you’re scoring

or the struggle you have ignoring
the insta-perfections of the people you’re following
on your phone at breakfast, first thing in the morning

Stanley never loses his grip
but keeps a steady paw on the wheel of his dog-basket ship
and only looks up if he hears you flip
the door to where the dog food’s kept
or he hears you zip
your dog walking jacket
and fill its pockets from the packet
of snacks to feed his tripe stick habit

in other words, his life seems pretty damned easy
free of the stress that can make you existentially queasy
anyway – that’s how the situation seems to me

but then – hold on there! whoa!
maybe dogs hide a good deal more than they show
(although
listening to him snoring pianissimo
I don’t know)

Stanley IS the poem

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I think when you finally get to know him
you’ll see that Stanley IS the poem

all the techniques he’s managed to perfect
like dramatically hanging paws for effect

and as the frantic pounding of his tail makes clear
he’s more iambic than William Shakespeare

he sneezes in threeses as loud as he pleases
assonance where his expertise is

and he’ll stare into space, and twitch when he snoozes
dreaming of tripe stick flavoured muses

and reliably one full hour before he’s fed
he’ll howl like an elegy from the book of his bed

paws & hands

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

A dog
is a variety of Tetrapod
(We call this one Stanley
just ‘cos it’s handy)

Tetrapod means four feet
which as getting about goes is pretty neat
even if the early human
learned to walk on only two of ‘em

Another interesting fact about Stanley
he’s a perfect example of pentadactyly
the same hand bones you’d find in the flipper
of something like a primitive mud-skipper
our earliest common ancestor
in what is probably now Manchester
no doubt it was nervous
when it first broke surface
but found it wasn’t so difficult after all
to waggle its flippers and learn to crawl
(honestly I’ve no idea why
finger bones should number five
– something to do with the structure of the wrist?
you’re better off asking an ichthyologist)

anyway – if it works, why fixit?
who the hell needs a surplus digit?

and as Jeff Goldblum once famously said
before half the Park was screaming or dead
Life finds a way
oh-kay
thanks Jeff – that’s great
but it’s raining, it’s late
and I think the power just went off at the gate

Stanley the Philosopher

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

At the risk of sounding anthropomorphical
Stanley is actually pretty philosophical
like Sophocles
or Socrates
or maybe Plato
for example, if I’m peeling a potato
to make chips
and one of them slips
onto the floor
he’ll stand there staring a minute or more
interrogating the dialectical question:
are raw potatoes good for your digestion?
but then shake his head sadly and slowly quit
the kitchen and the mess I’ve made of it
to hop back on to the dog-ruined sofa
and fuss awhile with his hairy white toga
and look as sad as any seer would
that witnessed such tragedies and understood