^or the equivalent of the bushidō, i.e. way of the citizen: shimin dōro (shimindō).

it's truly electrifying watching the Olympics, the diversity of
bodies, it simply shames the football ballerinas
complaining about their tiaras
and fouls *****-whiskers tingling **** -
oh ooh oh god, the end of the world!
i finally find my body type,
Greco-Roman 130 kg wrestling,
or 105 kg weightlifting, no six pack...
you watch the Olympics long enough to
sterilise what's otherwise turkey-feeding
of image... i think the discus throwers
are hot, the archery from South Korean with
their porcelain pelicans shattering on the one touch...
the Croat beauty is atypical of
Slaven Bilić - itch - that's a diacritical mark
that's itchy - breve or acute... c̆ that alternative,
along with the c̆ech - Český Krumlov - chequers-ski -
Gucci and other associates of Milan did
a runner... we don't accept anorexic in the
Paraolympics... maybe we should enter old twiggy
daddy longshanks in the races... invent
Metaolympics...  so i found out where i'm designated,
130kg Greco-Roman wrestling and 105kg weightlifting...
that's my body... if i were to be tyrannised by
the dictatorial rule of volleyball and football
i'd be nowhere... no spectrum, no difference...
some like Twiggy Ramirez at the ping pong shoo
(**** **** ****... believe me,
non-purpose onomatopoeia usage is a replacement
of sensibility knocking, i use it when i just
want a sound, not necessarily an accessible
direction of finalising a meaning) -
but watching the Olympics is like watching
the Greeks under Roman rule... the marble genius
of the spectrum of sizes... and coerced differences
ploughed into one...
which had me bewildered about the other duality,
i always thought that the Spartan way of life
was about raw physicality... that all Spartans
had to be physically fit, ten potato sacks on their
shoulders running up Etna...
and that the Athenians concerned themselves
with aesthetics of the arts and clues...
it's not about athletics at all...
i'm a Spartan in that respect, sure, i donned
the long hair like any Spartan might,
men with long hair, women with a Niqab, whatever,
Satan's postbox as the crude English myth said it was...
i might go and see a ballet, but let me tell you,
any first act of ballet is tedious... you can't warm up
to liking any ballet in the first act...
it's all downhill during the second and third acts,
but the first act is horrid...
i realised that there was another dimension of
the Spartan life, it's not the physicality at all...
Spartans' physicality is about efficiency,
we have weightlifters in Sparta, but we have
bodybuilders in Athens, the former concerns itself
in pragmatic matters, the latter in aesthetic matters...
same in art... the Spartan way concerning mental
aptitude is to do with the basics, with very little,
a minimalism, a park bench, a few beers,
a conversation... otherwise? the Athenian reign on
ballrooms, cocktails, royal dinners, flamboyance,
degeneracy, and outright excess...
forget the Olympic plus, the variations of bodies...
footballers and anorexic catwalk models...
we're talking blubber fetishes of Rembrandt -
then into the psychic life of Sparta - simplicity,
twinning with the Japanese way of life...
over and over again... simple fulfils perfection
by not competing, so self-absorbed it is,
so solipsistic it will remain... and it is an art-form
the Spartan life, if i get my sleep,
have my tobacco, a bottle of whiskey and a few beers,
a white page... the end.
the Athenian model discounts what that famous
Spartan argued for: carpenters, plumbers,
better than the claims of being a "son of god",
he broke out, on the prescription that ****** him
by the authorities: deus ex machina -
try imitating him, it's harder than you think.
the Athenian model of the arts and impracticality -
the Spartan model of geometry and practicality -
the Olympics taught me that the Spartan way of life
is not solely concerned with physical exercises,
that the physicality of body be the sole concern,
that one is to perfect the body...
the Spartan way of perfecting the mind is just as rigid
as the body demands... the pentagon of an event,
how strained is your hearing, your eyes or your tongue?
it concern the simplicity of all things being perfected,
rather than the Athenian counter of the complication
of all things being unlearned and in pyramidal schematics
expected: courtesy of approaching a king...
the dinner arrangements, the starter fork, the main meal
fork, the dessert fork... a Spartan would just look at it
and say: they can use chop-sticks because the chef
knew how to cut into bite size... i'll forget the knife
and use the one fork throughout the meal...
she better be wearing that crown of hers throughout
the meal... otherwise she's no queen, i'll just watch
her slurp the soup with that Mt. Fuji balancing on her head...
**** the airs, and all of Jane Austen.

back when people worked Saturdays,
and there was a Jewish aroma in the air,
where people had only one day
to recuperate, just before the office jobs,
and the mundane trollop of
Saturdays free, Sundays free -
you'd never believe the things that went
on under the iron curtain: later known
as the iron skirt: oh boy, those girls flew
the nest and established a well-knit
web of deceit and lies, but they were
happy housewives in the end...
the men? if not strong enough: expendable;
i'll see in 2 hours, when you finally decide
that theology is half as harsh as Darwinism,
first you want to hear the rational, rude
and crude, then you defend Disney...
make your mind up!
you wouldn't believe what went on under
that iron skirt... they lived their lives glorifying
the Sabbath... because they knew:
if i have two days off, i'll grow lazy,
and the Chinese will sniff out my laziness
and say: **** yeah! bring in the jobs!
and boy! ye-ha! they managed to bank on a swarm
of herring then the west lost its plot
figuring out history with nostalgia,
or the reinvention of the wheel...
dizzy, yuck: *****... repeat, repeat, repeat...
have you noticed how grey-haired western
leaders become in the anglophile sphere?
give them four years, and after that you can call them
grand daddy'oh...  the Soviets? well, i'm like
one of those Napoleonic fetishists,
i care to mind the whip and the guillotine,
why? because some people are so stupid that
it's complimented in their unruliness -
it does't exactly spell out H A R E M...
it usually spells out G Y M...
there's weightlifting with that plump one over here,
oh yeah, she's the late comer, i guess that's
the rowing machine... etc. etc.,
you jealous? i feel like strangling my cat for excesses
in meows - but do you you really think you'll
converse with a communist party member,
apart from reading Trotsky or Marx and simply
daydreaming? you probably will,
i have a contact, i have heard the reality,
i see it too: he's in his seventies and comfortable
with a pension... the state actually exists in his
comfort zone... most of the pensioners in the west
can start their denial of whether or not the state
exists... well... we know McDonald's exists...
but the state, i.e. England, America? i'd put my bets
on Nike first... the state doesn't actually exist for them...
just recently B.H.S. shut down
and the pensions went down the drain...
i wish i was spreading propaganda on purpose,
as if it was my job... i'm just digesting the facts...
you will never become Red when you haven't spoken
to an old-school Red... no point reading Trotsky and
thinking big when ******... sure... pout and pose
your little socialist escapade, turnip shoved up
a badger's ****... that's how it looks to me...
so you really want to be a communist? you know what
that actually means? i know what it means:
a comfortable retired engineer of a steel industry,
i never chose to be a poet, i was expecting chemist,
but i live in a country hell-bent to create as many
entertainers as possible, i don't mean circus antics,
i mean: bore me to death with karaoke -
they'll get one single out after being the village bicycle,
then they'll write a book, and then the n.h.s. will
collapses: what ever happened to the joys of physical
labour? i knew it once, fair game my health sorta
deteriorated without my wanting it to spiral into writing...
but what i was given i exploited...
and the pitched maxim describing the times we live in?
oddly enough from Charles Manson:
everyone's mad these days...
                            the quarter synagogue...
excuse me while i talk to the secular priest (a psychiatrist)...
weaving the trigonometric snail trail of
doubt, deny, doubt, deny, doubt, deny...
                              and that pretty much sums it up -
oh right, only now you hear the truths...
yeah, in the Soviet era people worked Saturdays,
being an atheistic model, in managed to incorporate
all the good bits of Christianity, Judaism, Islam...
the one day's rest fed it, primarily,
because it secured the fact that people could enjoy life
as plumbers, electricians, etc.,
in the west, the extra day means everyone wants or dreams
to be an artist - i think a falling leaf in autumn is
more entertaining than Liberace on steroids
milking the old ladies while hiding his homosexuality...
but that's me... sure, go ahead, go to your little
therapy sessions in protest on Wall St.,
but don't expect me to be there... you all end up
desecrating the statue of liberty: gagged and showcasing
a ***** rather than a torch...
freedom only goes a certain distance: before it just becomes
someone's bling raging exfoliating plight into extortion
and exploitation...
               so, you think you can be a communist?
looks to me that the Chinese are doing alright -
                             i doubt there's a Mongolian sentiment in
them - mind you, the first Communist society,
as canvas for later implementations of the theory?
Mongolia... that's where it started, Mongolia was
the testing ground... and i do love the fact that Islam
doesn't play along to having interest rates...
                 0% APR and other such jingles...
Communism was only "wrong" undermined because
people mentioned Marx was a Jew...
the western powers at be actually preserved Zionism
and kept Zionism and establishing Israel when,
at the same time, undermining Marxism -
no one really mentions that antisemitism: primarily
because the Egyptians think they're Semites...
i think the Egyptians are the greatest plotters known to
man... it was bad enough giving them Christianity
that emerged as Coptic, it's even worse giving them
Islam... someone should have just given them
Pythagoras or something to dwarf the pyramids in terms
of real-estate know-how... a pyramid, but at the centre
a semi-detached English abode / "castle"...
who the **** would ever stress a need for a brotherhood
or man?! i feel no inclination to eat a meal
with those camel jockeys... real person ****, real personal...
and here they come: the grand defenders of
all of mankind... picking cherries of opinion,
choosing what's to be said, what't to not be said,
subsequently what's to be thought, and what's not
to be thought... and if ever a man from the east
was to be convinced about the superiority of western
values... well, it would have to be via a woman...
but since there aren't any about... he's not convinced at all...
and if an opportunity came that a woman would
come about to teach him the superiority of western
values... he'd simply turn around and say: it's too late.

A man named GORILLA STRONG
His last name Strong describes him perfectly
Strength in his own right
Strong and Might
Gorilla Strong started on his journey as a Weightlifter
He would lift weights beyond expectations
In fact, when he lifts weights at the gym where he trains appropriately called “INTENSITY BEYOND”
Every weight he lifts sounding like an Earthquake around him with shakes and vibrations
It surrounds Mr. Strong’s training formation
His body parts seem to muscle flex without Mr. Strong doing a flex
Mr. Strong has received numerous Weightlifting awards and top honors in sportsmanship

You are probably scratching your head in wondering who is this Gorilla Strong is a person who I made up in my head
However, it would be surprising if Gorilla Strong really existed
So where did the first name of Gorilla originate?
It wasn’t from the ridges of Africa nor a descendant from King Kong
It describes Mr. Strong’s strength capabilities and Gorilla built structure
But there is another side of Gorilla Strong
He became a competitive Bodybuilder
How does one go from Weightlifting to Bodybuilding?
Easy answer, Train, Eat, Preparation and Transformation
Mr. Strong competed in Bodybuilding Contest in winning the Mr. Sensational Title
Because Mr. Gorilla Strong is unique and was wonder and instilled competitive
No imagination or dream, but fierce competition in what bodybuilding could become
The stage was set and when Gorilla Strong stepped on the Posing Dais or some would call the podium along with the other competitors, there was no comparison as to who would win the bodybuilding show
Mr. Strong was vascular, constructed, muscle pumps and showed promise and plenty of detail
It was because of his Weightlifting days that paved the way for Bodybuilding
Even when Mr. Gorilla Strong shook one’s hand, it was like shaking hands with a vice
He was just that strong
After all, one’s last name of strong is nothing to ignore
Think on crush and ouch
Some might think that Mr. Gorilla Strong might be too strong
Just saying, what if Mr. Strong was arrested, and was put into handcuffs, do think they would hold being his strength?
It might be considered a strongman act
Gorilla Strong being a man of excellence
Essence at its best
Powerful with might
Mr. Sensational
Global name
Gorilla Strong

I died drowning
Drowning like the rest of America
Trying to breathe under the numbers
All of them telling us that we're failures
I died drowning

It was more so a ****** than an unfortunate event
I blame society
Piling papers and statistics on teens and the to be's
We're shoved into school at the age of 3
For that I blame you

I blame you for my death
The air was extracted from my lungs
All 78% of nitrogen and 21% of oxygen

Geometry fried my brain at exactly 112 degrees
Physics pushed me off a cliff and I accelerate by 9.81 m/s
World History murdered me with every war and battle

English killed me just like every author
Band beat me to death like a drum
Weightlifting dropped 225 lbs on my throat
The play acted out all of my deaths

I didn't die just drowning
I was beaten, burned, shot, choked, mocked and everything in between.
I was murdered and I  am still living

I am here to convict the killers
They say it takes a village to raise a kid
But what does it take to **** one?

Hey little brother
Our love for one another
Wasn’t born of blood
But built up
From the birth of
Your very first breath
Seen in polaroids
Of your precarious venture
Into this life
It was formed in time
Spent playing
And babysitting
In letting you win
At video games
Until the day
I could not beat you
It was in weightlifting
And *** smoking
Till you grew up
Without me knowing
Changed and changed some more
Angry and hurt
To religious and forgiving
So this a remembrance
Dear little brother
Who is a little bigger
Than me
Verses to remind you
That when you say I love you
I will always love you to

We were star-crossed lovers
With stars completely faded
Upon the pellucid canvas
From hearts barricaded.

We were crossed lovers
Anger emanated from our soul
Clouded coils created catastrophe
preventing us to be complete wholes.

We were lovers
Pain and misplaced anger dissipated
by trust and words exchanged
Accomodating the memories created.

We loved.
Loved like a love created above the skies
Stronger than any weightlifting olympiad
We shared a loving bond unbreakable by lies.

We love,
The way a bee loves collecting honey
With love coursing through our veins
We love, like the sun loves being called sunny.

Not a villain from a comic book
He was a man who had a certain look
A weightlifting man with power and strength
Determination in always going the depth
But yet it goes beyond all that
Flex was the man that had his own platform track
It wasn’t music being the crack
He was a Bodybuilder that competitors saw amaze
However, the audience gave Flex praise
His smooth and break dancing kicking splits was the spectacular phrase
Yet not perplexed
Flex got the name in how he would flex
His muscles would respond with every moving command
Flex was known throughout the land
Where Flex goes always followed his body
Achievement established in every way
But this was day by day
Victories with a loud applause
No there wasn’t any clause
Flex with the name being just right
When on stage, Flex is simply out of sight.

a bit different, i have to admit...
       i don't know why i sat on
the toilet for so long,
  maybe it was to do with the ginger maine
**** that jumped on the bathoom
windowsill and was teasing me to
insert a need to be petted...
don't know, i was relaxing my ****
muscles stretched on the throne of thrones,
took a dump and started fascinating
about this ****** cat...
ginger, hair extensions on its ear
like a lynx, weighing in at about 10 kg,
i mean: hear meat of a *******...
we spend out days on a windowsill,
he's in the bathoom looking
at the vicinity going huh? and i'm also
dart-throwing with my eyes
trying to pick something up...
    like a revision to the prologue
of the movie... kiss kiss, bang bang
i really did have an over-due end to a toilet
session...
  i just sat there stretching my ****
like some samurai weightlifting and figuring out
why the ears of cats are so sensitive...
no, really, i want this **** out so i can
get my ego back...
          given we're going to be so *******
um um hum cry-baby nuanced...
       i'm talking a fox-sized cat...
           and he's like: love the stink, tease me some
more...
            cats are nuance...
                            sometime i don't know what
to do with them...
                  this ginger one likes my **** perfumes
that i lied about not having derived them from
Parisian sewege...
well i can't exactly say that val kilmer
was badass in that kiss kiss, bang bang movie,
because he was...
   a terrible thing happened to me when i went
to university,
          this girl approached me, we watched
the lion king and then for a walk and she was
asking me to "break down the walls" later,
which i didn't... oh **** me, ******* virgins is
rare i'm trying to forget that i did once...
that internal excess of skin you need to puncture,
while at the same time faking the possession
of a circumcised phallus?
      a flock of sheep sheered, a fork that isn't
a trident, and attempting to fake having a sized
               4inch *****...
                 ever open up a ******?
           clearly i'd tell you to go to a brothel before
attempting to unravel that question...
               better still, try that walking brothel
of a saudi niqab woman... tear that **** off
and you're bound to enter a hiatus in some public
space feeding a horde of pigeons, being "weird".
that existentialist "quote"... **** needs a pause,
akin to against: quote?
why did i even write about this?
   i guess simply for the same reasons albert camus
wrote the stranger...
                 i'm sitting on the "throne of thrones"
(the toilet), and i'm petting a cat...
               a cat more like a fox *******,
and i'm exfoliating his response to owning ears,
and there's this bald-patch worth of cranium
i smear with my index tip (of finger)...
   then the dab on the nose to suggest that i know
where his "knees" are bound to fold on the hind
when crouching...
                        doesn't that mean that existentialism
was a philosophical movement counter thesaurus?
isn't that what you call anti-thesaurus?
     as in faking an excess of vocab?
   peacock **** to me, insert gucci to add emphasis,
alongside: i own a flat in venice...
                              ******* bound to congregate.
i really don't know why i'm writing about
sitting on a toilet and petting a cat on a windowsill...
i really overstayed my welcome
   on the throne of thrones...
                         but i managed to find this
as compensation... the feline sensitivity of possessing
ears... all of them are naturally doberman slit...
  am i to blame the japanese for creating this
bonsai monstrosity?
  no! i blame the egyptians!
                                clearly the term bonsai
can be extended beyond the thought of carpentry...
this **** has to be absurdity phase 2...
    is it odd that i petted a cat on a windowsill
    before wiping my ***?
          everyone demands to hear the 3rd tier of
feminism, there's no 2nd phase of albert camus
and the anti-existentialist movement...
           mind you: i did just write about taking a ****
and petting a cat that enjoyed both my
rigour in a gentle hand over its cranium and base
of skeleton and "excess" of tail (a bit like a ******,
or what's commonly known as
the coccyx); evidently and the artwork in the depths
of a toilet protruding to give itself a case
of an iceberg comparison...
         i mean... does owning dogs come to
such ******* as owning cats them
                     forcing themselves into the toilet while
you want to concentrate on taking a ****
in privacy?

Not about a trash bag
A pulley man being no drag
Sound the Trumpet’s as there is strength in our midst
Hefty Thomas, a Weightlifting Champion
He could lift 1000 pounds in weights as if they were toys
He could bend steel bars as if they were rubber
Mr. Thomas performed Feats of Strength
He is one that goes at every length
Hefty pulls heavy trucks, buses and even a large passenger plane
He is his own takeoff and controls his own boundaries
The world has witnessed Hefty Thomas at numerous weightlifting competitions
Competitors are always warned when Hefty demonstrates
Once Hefty lifts, the message becomes clear to competitors, “Lift or stay home”
Some people saw Hefty as Hercules while others see him as Atlas
But no matter what, strength in any name
Hefty is a strength warrior
He also had been witnessed in crushing a solid brick to ashes with one crush
Hefty wrestled a Lion, and you could hear Bone Crushing sounds from the Lion
Greater the strength the power within the heart
Heft Thomas stands 6’2” weighing 400 pounds with veins extending from his neck to his legs
His muscles are all beef and contour
Hefty is not a little man and some consider him a giant in average standards
He had broken world weightlifting records
Yet, he never competed in the Olympics, but didn’t chose to do so
Hefty Thomas wanted to show the possibilities in how strength could be performed in fitness good in strength beyond compare
He was a man who had a mission, and strength being his bounty and that I wanted to share.

for me, the beginning & end of all comic book movies begins & ends with Unbreakable... i really don't need to see any other comic book movie, i'm tired of this infantilizing... i'll watch them... but... Unbreakable hits the mark, hell... the whole trilogy does... Split was just as good, Glass to boot... what's the alternative? some... Bergman?! some... Bell, Book & Candle from 1959... starring Kim Novak... the original take on The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947)... Roman Polanski's The Ninth Gate... Unbreakable resonates with me... perhaps not so much the movie... the soundtrack... the soundtrack always grows on me... esp. since now i'm performing a security job at football stadiums...

that Dalmatian punch up with myself really did help
today... ooh ooh... oh... the bruise...
perception is everything: to appear as X...
without disclosing Y is key...
i wasn't lying though...
i just didn't brag about it...
sure... a Dalmatian patch of plum on my left eye...
which i self-inflicted...
well... it made me look more dashing...
i don't think i've ever managed so many
women look at me with so much
attention to clarify, ahem, "something"...
it was only a short shift... 4 hours at Oxford...
but, getting to Oxford & back...
left Romford at circa 3pm... only got back
home at... circa 1am...
and what better way to spend the end of a shift
than... drinking and scribbling doodles?
i don't even want to think that i'm
writing anything meaningful,
i just want to write in order for the per se
experience... i stopped thinking narratively
a long time ago...
that res cogitans / res narratio / narrandus /
                      narratus... in the realm of the original?
of the thinking thing?
that person died...
ergo? i have to go into the realm of
the res extensa: the extended thing...
i do my "thinking" by writing...
writing is an extension of my "thinking": or, rather...
my cognitive-deprivation is nothing more than...
me... stretching a rubber-band...
waiting for a moment to snap it...
i absorb experiences & later transform them
into scribbles...
on the way to Oxford... Dan: the 6ft5 "viking"...
big man Dan...
no... he's not being a **** about it...
he's just fiddling with the space made available
to him... i'm still bewildered by his...
ability to split attention between texting
while driving, texting, eating something & driving...
at least he stopped being twitchy with his
personal music choices... safe man...
decided to switch radio stations...
i sort of think he's starting to like me...
at the induction he folded my hood so that the word
STEWARD printed on a high-viz. could be made
visible... then took a picture...
posted it on the company's social media website...
then unrolled my hood...
there was no chance for a handshake
when we ****** off back to Romford...
so i put a hand on his shoulder with the words:
thank you & may you have a good night...
my Turkish barber already used me for one
of those: BEFORE & AFTER photographs
for his up-and-coming social media presence...
you'd think i might have gotten a free haircut for my...
ahem... "modelling" efforts...
no matter... i'm not here for the money...
i don't have a wife, i don't have children...
oh... but the best children to have: are the ones
that aren't your own...
perhaps that's different for women...
but... as a man... i'm falling in love with these *******
gremlins!
like today... at the turnstiles...
clocked in 252 people walking through my gate...
didn't have a scanner... just a clicker...
one poor dad implored me to let him through...
he had his seasonal pass... his son forgot his...
i winked... sure... see no evil, hear no evil... speak no evil...
but this other father & 4 teenage girls...
exact words: her, dude!
how's your day been...
that ******* Dalmatian eye-patch must have
given me away...
oh hey Dudette! how's you?
god almighty! give me dogs, give me cats,
give me children... give me the charge of Abraham's *****!
but don't... think... you'll satiate my
taste for eternity... with a ******* HAREM!
no! *******, right now!
while you're still standing... ******* with the harem...
right now...
call it the wisdom of king Solomon i'll call it:
the miseries of king Solomon...
king David was happier among his *******
psalms than in any presence of a woman...
*******, right now...

cats, dogs, children... & a curiosity for eternity...
no... no women...

but that's the great thing about going mad
in your early 20s... from smoking some ****...
&... hearing a choir or singers...
in an empty church, dispersed,
to the best of my ability: by an arching wind...
a breath that utters no words
yet utters a tornado...
you can't go mad, twice! it's a double jeopardy case...

- we were on our way for a shift at Oxford football ground...
4 guys and 2 girls...
obviously the girls were ******* talkative...
breaking of the ice, Titanic, blah blah this...
blah blah that...
at the grounds conversation took turn to height...
Dan 6ft5, moi 6ft2... some girl... argued against
being 5ft11... hair as green, fluorescent as any...
generic... woke brigade alphabet soup spew
****** local "diacritical with a *****" might come across:
outside a working environment...

one "Viking" here, another there...
oh, but one of the girls in our commute was acting odd...
how did i get my Dalmatian's patch?
i'm not going to brag...
how old are you?
i'm getting a cab back home, you want to share?
she nervously joked until i choked on my own
presence: stop trying to hold me hand...
you want to hold my hand?
she just offered me a ******* gelatin sweet...
i was donning my jacket as if i had my arm broken...
i'm hot, i'm sweating... well... you're sitting
next to a furnace...
is this broad hitting on me...
oh, great... what's available?
the Ancient Roman scenario of fathering
******* children...
if these are are my peers...
how unlucky i am...
the ones that have managed to reproduce...
this broad gaining ground on me...
her ex was... is... an alcoholic... so obviously
she's raising... 3 brats all on her own...
this other broad was ***** by her ex...
well, sure... great... stories... life's messy...
why did entertaining psychosis suddenly leave me...
so in-tune with being organised aged 35?

if you can handle a crowd of rowdy football hooligans...
in the long run... i can still do this on the side...
but... here's to me getting some references
and endeavour a role as a chemistry teacher...
i can't even brag about it...
you don a Dalmatian patch for your eye
for... they will never have guessed i was
having an argument with my shadow,
that i had a fight with my shadow...
well; that i punched myself...

from the turnstiles to the segue between the home
supporters & the visiting supporters...
as i already remarked...
it might only haven been Wimbledon AFC...
but it was a southern team...
those ******* ***** from Wigan (Athletic)...
fellow coworker even remarked:
must be something in the air...
point being, the further north you go in England...
the more... religiosity you experience...
all the London folk are tame...
i actually received a handshake from a father
& his son... at one point the son implored his father:
can i go up into the higher stands & chant
with the "hooligans"...
everyone seemed so well behaved, though...
well **** me Jeremy Cricket!

maybe i should lay off the employment & support
allowance that i fuelled my writing ambitions
with... focus more on the security job prospects...
then think about the reference & get a position
in a school teaching... chemistry!
sounds like a plan...

however... men... working alongside women...
on the way back the silence was almost choking her...
4 guys, 1 girl... oh but she's a big girl...
she was an almost... fantasy fetish of a...
no, not an ava lauren... more akin to...
i forget... i don't want to remember...
hold my hand insinuation...
want to take a taxi back with me...
how old are you...
i thought we were simply working together?
work's best:
when you ask the least amount of...
disclosing answers, don't you think? no?
no, that's not how this modern take
of woman! BUFF! BEEFED UP work, like?
oh, sure sure... she's the ******* heavyweight belt of
weightlifting all of a sudden & i'm supposed
to take on the "feelz" of ******* Tinkerbell!

the end.