Oct 2016
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.
(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.
