what do women call them? mombods?
frenzied... ever frenzied by reality:
a reality with a doubled-up emphasis:
a reemphasis... i love reality:
cubism in its simple term of:
"awkward" bodies...
           i should know a little about that...
i was fat... then thin... then fat again:
now i'm a bullish bulk of a man in his prime...
i will not do any torso work except for
press-ups... i like my lamb-stomach pouch...
plus... body-hair doesn't look good
on a six-pack... plus a hairy chest:
i sometimes go to work with an unbuttoned
shirt... ooh... people noticed i have a hairy
chest: like someone sprinkled pepper on it...
yeah: two legs too and a beard...
one of the guys started cracking jokes that
i'm a lookalike to some actors from the 1980s...
***** or film?
but a hairy torso doesn't go well with
a six-pack... i'd have to shave...
i saw one br'uh on the train the other day:
i seriously distrust men who's bicep girth
is either similar to their calves...
biceps triceps... whatever...
   i distrust the look of men when their arms
are larger than their legs...
absolute ******* posers...
they must be pumping some sort of juice...
some variation of steroids...
but my god... a plump woman:
i don't mean a single mum sort of beached whale
i mean: ****** plump plum of a woman...
i lose my mind...
              it's truly a hot summer if i'm
thinking about *** all the time...
i just can't stop... it's like a second quest for
rediscovering gravity...
and all the glory of a "cis-hetero-normative":
ah ha ha "*******" that comes with the ancient
whisper from Ovid...
i just discovered this trend on twitter...
i don't know whether they're scam accounts
or whether they're authentic...
oh man... these women are thirsty...
about time to play...
(a) watermelon man - Herbie Hancock
(b) backdoor man - Howlin' Wolf...

   and you're telling me? you're telling me?!
the African man not exposed to the English
language and "slavery": coal-miners?!
i thought the Polacks were the industrial "*******"...
working coalmines and the metallurgy...
you're telling me? you're telling me?
the African man could have conjured up jazz
in Africa?! the African man could have conjured
up the blues?! in Africa?!
you're telling me the African man:
and oh! oh the misery! could have conjured up
these fiendish: liberating arts with his African
speech?!

well... if the Hebrews received reparations from
the Germans for the Holocaust...
i still wonder... who the **** is going to pay "us"?
the Germans won't own up...
the Russians won't own up...
are we asking for free money?
   no, oh no no... we're asking for more strife!
that's how you live: proper: you strive...
if a lazy body: then an agitated mind...
if a lazy mind: then an agitated body...

that's how life: works...
look at me... i've returned to listening to the blues
because i'm thinking about ***...
i can't stop myself thinking about tomorrow's
shift and what will follow...
i figured it out... keep agitating that dangling "thing"
several days prior without climaxing...
then after the shift drink 75cl of apple cider...
wander around the brothel...
then buy some whiskey, take a sip... walk in...
and? perform...

         oh to hell with chemical additives... ****** my ***...
there need to be: plans in place to perform
on a whim... with someone you never slept with
before... oh... but there's one honey in my eye...
that one from a ******* i had...
the one i wanted to do solo...

my god: listening to the blues and thinking about ***...
it's almost as good as drinking ms. amber
or eating self-made mint chocolate-chip ice-cream...
blah blah: n'ah n'ah... moaning about a past...
always with the past...
if it weren't for the Africans exposed to
the English language we'd have nothing worth
of modernity...
these weaklings moaning and groaning
walking on nuggets of what ought to be feet!

if it weren't for the Africans exposed to
the English tongue: complete strangled by it...
why didn't they try a Canadian taste of bilingualism?
or the Swiss try at triangulating Italian,
French and German?
like Napoleon said:
a man who knows two tongues is worth
the worth of two men...

by now i'd be stuck with the ******* moths of
history still pretending to like Mozart...
or Bach...
             but listening to the blues
and thinking about ***... and drinking...
and then going cycling...
i just want to gear up to some lazy motorist
who might tell me i'm a terrible cyclist...
i just want to heave out a terrible mouth:
an ill wind of breath: i want to vent out anger
for anger's sake...

while cleaning the house: dearest Mary...
you like cleaning the house? my mother asked...
no, dearest mother...
i hate cleaning the house...
but what do i love? i love a clean home...
i abhor sloths... i abhor people with no self-awareness...
i abhor people with no self-hygiene standards...
but i also love flies... isn't that a pretty picture...
wrap me up in a fleece of flies
and tell me to run into a morphed spider-web
with a black widow sitting at the centre
all pretty: feminist...
borrowed themes from the insects:
the modern woman as the Mantis and the Black Widow...
sure as **** nothing mammalian about her...
well... beside the prostitutes...

i hardly think i ever paid for lies...
it's a sure good sign if they're moaning
and groaning with their mouths already full...
now all i have to do
it pretend to play the violin while stroking my beard...
i can't escape it: the blues and thoughts erotica...
peaches and cream...
mint and chocolate-chip ice-cream...
pork and thyme... beef and rosemary in
a Turkish Lavash dish, wrap...

*** and tiredness... nicotine is better than
caffeine...
                  plump plum *** of a woman...
pigeon voyeurism...
it's not like you'll ever see crows mating...
in the open...
but pigeons do: ***** *******:
of the 100 rejections you see...
there's about 2 that make it with all that flurry
of flapping wings trying a ballerina's balance
of doggy-pigeon style *******...

oh... oh: i feel so liberated with all these women
feeling so liberated...
    i can have multiple ****** encounters
and feel no shame... none... zilch... nada...
thank you: woman...
i don't need to be your wage-slave-labourer...
i'm just going to cycle to the Chadwell Heath
bicycle shop to inquire about the cost
of fixing up my £500 TREK mountain bicycle...
i'm getting tired of the road-bike...
i need to get off the grid... Havering County
Park is beckoning...

i'm freed! thank you, woman!
you have you little ****-boys and i have my serious
women who like *******, proper...
there's the money on the table:
no dinner dates... no cinema dates...
thank you!
  thank you thank you thrice thank you!
no commitment...
let me just tap into this thirst pool of single
yummy-mummies... these
yummy-sloppies...
                  hell: i might even get some **** for free!

i need to watch this twitter trend...
i mean: if i simply exposed myself like they expose
themselves... it's infuriating:
not impossible to deal with: just ****** infuriating...
here comes the donkey:
and here comes the stick and carrot...
  it's like that with these doubtful women...
already coupled... probably married...
mums: definitely children on that Titanic of a
sinking woman... yet she wants more: more: more...
validation points... more validation points...
is she still ****-able: question:
is she still able-to-****?

                       do we really need to explore
the dimensions of latex gimp suits?!
i don't think so...
                        wholesome... porridge style *******...
starve a little... then blow your head out with
a shotgun of slobbering on a dozen oysters
that compose her one pretty little ****...
floral patterns and spring in her eyes and mouth...

one more ******* "******" starts telling me
he's the victim of some white *******...
i'll tell him: you little dip-****...
the African man would have never enriched
humanity with the blues and with the jazz
if he wasn't exposed to the English tongue!
it's not like these people worked the coal-mines!
my god... oh! bemoan the labours of cotton-picking!
my god! each cotton bug probably weighed
the worth of gold back then!
it's not like people are not in the fields these
days plucking up cabbages!
waste of breath / space sort of people argumentation
practices: always ******* awry...