or the alternative precursor to the spice girls
(yes, i did buy their debut -
      baby spice, well, my infantile
fetish with cute, clean cut blondes, meh,
old story)
                 but **** on me, President Reagan
was a former actor -
     i have no personal interests in the debate,
well: i like to see real life Hollywood,
i like films, from time to time...
    20th century moustaches are these days
relegated to hairstyles....
  you know why we don ****** hair?
the ***** are pruned and trimmed
for a ***** movie: we like to fiddle with it,
esp. the hair crop on the chin,
     i could become a violinist with it.
what spurred me on? Marvin Gayes heard it through
the grapevine, or as i say:
  down the **** gold, auburn, amber, beer,
whiskey, **** me! a correlation!
or a categorical imperative some would say:
             heard it down the wheat shaft
in between men having their prided little Richards
cut off - fun ******* fun -
         that's me and washing my hands
writing poetry in advance to my body language
transformed starting to style myself
on the baguettes hit from the 80s:
dance like a pigeon, nod pigeon in a walk,
the guy that was so jealous of me
is now a manic depressive -
       and i'm like: so what? jog on!
                      i was stupid for 10 seconds of my life,
better write out bail...
                        they should call it
the s.d.i.             (sniffer dog investigation) -
it doesn't look even remotely disastrous,
     only with that Antoinette quiff and a moustache,
      oh we loved the pern wigs
before the bowlers and top hats...
          it's as if the Victorian era was an era
for mourning the death of God, truly.
all the little revolution stemming from the death
of someone ending a bio at 1900 didn't matter...
    he was philosophising at a funeral...
i'm just watching the vehement application
of Vatican non-curriculum activity stemming from
archeology started off in Egypt under the
title: St. Thomas' account the doubter / the philosopher
gaining ground in all things trans-,
                a return by "popular" demand,
first the authentic Christianity of the gospels
and now infuriated Islam and the unauthentic application
of the recovered gospels -
   can you imagine there being a brokering
       gamble on literacy back then, would the priests
have made fishermen literate back when it
was stated: keep them wholly physically intact,
let's not interfere with their physical prowess,
we need their physical strength, undermine their
physical strength with being able to read: and we're ******!
   a fisherman wrote that gospel?
                     (insert snigger) -
        only in the 20th century could the benefits
of education a son of a roofer / metallurgy agent go
down sour... first they said they wanted me to
come upon the plateau of what education is about:
the just dispensation of wealth,
   but then they heard about my background and
simply said: nah, that ****** can clean the dishes...
the worst part?
      i would have agreeably been a street-cleaner:
but not after having invested in education!
      that's a ****** insult!
                so here's me,
high as a kite on *****, listening to poets talk
about depression for a while thinking:
    where's the wheelchair?
                             and when i'm through
i tune in, listen to Marvin Gaye and start dancing
like a pigeon strutting:
           guillotine horizontal chopping the air up,
        twerk a bit in the bathroom
and feel Chappy Jolly -
                   i'd stick a thumb up my *** if i wanted
to as reversal of the *******
                                being accusatory -
don't educated me and steal from those who don't
want to be with their common sense education
                and give me absolutely nothing
chemistry related to do it...
        i'll just start writing and turn the heat up on
being a hermit...
                              becoming educated is a monstrous
delusion that the priestly caste of society dish out
             once they dished out literacy,
              but once literacy has become exhausted
they dish out education in the broader sense.
i was walking back from the supermarket today,
and picked up a pound coin from the pavement
(thanks Sinatra, that'll pay the rent)
    and started fiddling with it in my hand:
some people have lucky charms, emeralds and
what not in necklaces and other memento forms,
i started fiddling with this found pound coin,
  Whether's Original colouring - not quiet copper,
indeed more like solidified bleached out caramel,
when i walked with my hands partially clenched
like a gorilla's and balanced the coin
on the *******'s phalange -
        and suddenly i was holding a philosopher's stone...
        it all became visceral - clear, poignant,
this little thing can transform anything from
        copper into gold -
   from iron into gold...
               where the alchemist sleeping when
they were passing this stuff about, including
the blimmin' cobblers?
                       it can also include asking
the magpies to fly in and say: not all that glitters
is gold... where are the silver spoons?
              oh for sure, the eagle as emblem / mascot of the state
  is doomed, take the Third ***** and the Roman Empire...
             no one ever bothered the sparrow to be engulfed
in replica on standards of a marching enemy...
    the crow seems pretty safe too, funny
            the eagle is a crushing curse of failed predatory
alliances when embedded in metal for man
   to strut toward a harrowing end.

Count each and every breath,
And break yourself trying to keep calm.
Try to figure out what parts of you are good,
And which parts of you are wrong.

Lose me within distractions,
I am but a fraction
Of the result of meaningless actions.
Harsh words and broken promises,
Made without compassion.

Sometimes, you meet a person who is medicine to your soul...

What do I want?
That's a very interesting
and difficult question...
so deep, & philosophical,

To wish? To crave?
but not to need?
for me at least
I say indeed,
hope you agreed
a requirement,
I think,
you must feel both,
& also to love,
you ...
must be,
should be,
could be?
...a true companion,
my very best friend
my lover,
who I confide in
until the very end,
your loving hands
on whom we can depend
your pretty lips,
my name he will defend,
rely on in our times of stress,
to whom in all,
I can confess
oh, when my life,
is such a mess,
comforting, trusting
emotionally intelligent
softly encouraging,
challenging me
feels like he's...
my destiny
able to reflect on
personal struggles
while accepting ours
such a beautiful mind
thoughtful and so, very, very kind
perceptive and insightful
to love him, delightful
and humorous
quick-witted,
handsome and right
loves me today,
& all through the night
in darkest of hours
& 'neath stormy showers,
astutely observant
sensitive to others
respected by all
especially by Mother,
creative and artistic
& oh so forgiving,
tappin' a foot,
enjoyin' just livin'
poetically rendering
sensual pleasures of life
amidst daily chores
in triumph and strife,
understanding and strong
a love lasting long,
magnetic attraction,
like moth to a flame,
never regret,
this love doesn't blame
in every single way
& every single day,
every molecular cell
in secrets he'll never tell
so beautifully familiar
surging through my veins
every thought inside my brain,
my body filled,
with endless hunger pangs,
my enlarged heart
it gets a start
with eager valves waiting
like a drug
in your hug
in your kiss,
that I miss,
& your lips,
touching me,
with those...
fingertips,
as again ...it skips,
your touch
is so much,
you are more
than before,
& not just enough
a binding agent
lovely & fragrant,
sticky sweet
A tasty treat,
I wait for you,
& love so true,
I want you
I need you
to know love
2 love you,
just one time,
tell me...
cannot be a crime?
a love like this is so divine,
like a beautiful sun coming up,
over the other side of that mountain
an awe inspiring experience
with no interference,
every time I see your face
or when I don't,
my mind retraces,
right there where you are,
& shining like the Northern Star,
you will always be
the same as me,
different from here
and yet still
we are indistinguishable
like a fire
& built from pure desire,
taking us so much higher,
we are one...together,
our love goes on... forever,
a wish fullfilled
a dream come true
we're holding hands,
just me & you
our love is true
& skies are blue,
with me for every tomorrow,
sunlit days & grey skied sorrows,
sit 'neath the fire
my frequent flyer,
when you bury my bones
when you are there at home,
& if you're ever alone,
you'll know me best
& unlike all the rest
like your dark eyed daisy
your lovely baby,
tell my story rich & true
& I will do the same for you,

this to me anyway,
This...Is love.

Cherie Nolan

Sometimes "forever" will last for only a minute