England played today, what a ****-up grandiose style, glass bottle like hail flew down on Marseilles, water-canons, all kinds of crowd dispersers, true grit on the former great, now belittled, nation-state in d' hood reduced to a pitch with 20 idiots running around kicking about Charles' 1st head, and too fidgety skeletons tagged to A.S.B.O.S. tags playing puppets in a rectangle... i stopped watching the match for a cigarette break, the free-kick went in, Saturay, Tesco closing at 10pm, i took to wearing an Australian Open t-shirt, i've never seen so many funerals drinking a beer on my way home - prior it it was all gorilla chanting and Tarzan... i only learned of Tsar Putin dipping his ***** in the **** of Crimea a few minutes later.

your typical Saturday night, next door  neighbour's
trying out an alt. Y.M.C.A. with disco funk,
i guess it spreads easily this day, feel the grooves
or lined Rodin - ape-**** up my *** -
music so loud coming from my neighbour's canopy
i should be asking for canapés - after all Euro 2016
kicked off, scarf-hooligans of Moscow made
Marseilles home-turf , two Brits at the draw
in hospital, faces kicked-in, real bulldogs,
asthmatics at the end of it - conversation turned into a tour
of the Cairngorms or the western outlets...
a lot of Scottish impromptu with **** **** freckles!
gee ginger! aye fucky ***** ****!
Anglo users love interchanging the vowels for emphasis
to differentiate geographic regions -
but this one book review got me -
entitled ***** state by a feminist -
the ugly child abusing father is a punter -
listen, if it were't for prostitutes i'd be a priest
7 years in, acne on my Richie, one ****** in,
kiss on the mouth several times, hell, the guilt trip,
poor boy poor girl, skin cream lubrication,
talk of doctor's appointments, ******* a *****,
i'd get the Scandinavia model if the girls weren't fickle,
the hand is hardly a plastic surgeon of the female
genitalia ***** - bony M... you must be talking
about ******* - ***** M...
Jesus no more the son of god than the patron saint
of prostitutes... the poor guy feels the aches of touch
while the rich boys sushi off a stripper in Billions...
i don't have strong dialectical encouraging to dispute
or discuss - i too am too blame, ask my dermatologist...
so my neighbours threw a party,
on the set-list?
Cheryl Lynn - Got to Be Real; Oliver Cheatham,
Get Down Saturday Night; Edwin Starr - Contact;
and then the one off from One Direction - History -
the DJ suddenly experiences the jitters neurotically
changing songs before they finish - midwestern horror,
Ohio or Iowa hammer masscare, excerpt from
Pink Floyd's anti-fascist anti-educationalist march,
dangly on the Cenotaph -
persona qui umbra-grata (person agreeably welcome
as a shadow) - yep, me and the ex_machina routine...
i know the feminist argument smocking pipe handy
clean for more pages, but ever hear a ******* ******
or laugh with you? if i didn't use up the profession
i'd be the buying type abusive father forever,
who the **** needs **** trips when the moment can please
twos? i'd be up against a Cosmopolitan Magazine Quizzes...
the "perfect boyfriend" types, later coverage in
psychological advice columns... but wait...
all that ******* advice about something being indestructible
in us, about us, beginning with this keen appeal to
atheism already defaults a logic behind the essential
characteristic of the existence pertaining to a psyche -
by destroying god we also resolved to more easily disqualify
the in-destructibility of the soul,
constrained, a study of noumenons, with logic application,
as if with the omni- prefix to the non-essentials of god -
logic destroyed the compatible qualification of soul
ownership, reduced, it gave us the advent of prayer
and the necessity of a god, rather than our selves,
via souls - something without deductive parameters to
cursor and pre- of the experience quickened to
argument with dis- and later -qualificatio;
the кaцaпс fought with Mongols... you think there's
a fair bet for your hooliganism in Marseilles?
well... it all boils down to two identifiers of nationalism:
parade with the royal family near St. James' park
or gut a pig in the south of France...
Wales will not bow this time, given that they're
not getting paid for their national pride dribble,
they'll ******* up... make more adverts with your superstars...
strange that, well, America has idiosyncratic sports,
i never understood the cheese-ball of oval either to the throw -
yes, baseballs makes more sense than cricket,
but you have to understand rugby before you
start crowdsurfing your *** in nappies -
the high expression of nationalism is so Joker-faced
with the Windsor ******, nationalism and a king never match
up to how Mao or ****** would have it...
and the alternative is football hooliganism...
i walked for my whiskey and beer just after the 75th minute,
along the way i met so many funerals, donning my
Australian Open T-Shirt... well, you, know,
a different type of spectator sport - i heard the rabbis
of the oval where deemed cricket tourists when kicking
a penalty through the H architecture -
cricketers are tourists, oval jerker-offs are Wallabies...
Australia in the Eurovision song-contest... oh yeah,
i'm mad... mad about Abba.. Matt in Memphis,
an Eve Cassidy moment, Sia's chandelier cover-up,
the truest form of plagiarism - the cover is better
without all the computing morphings...
oh sure, i could play the dating game...
9 years in and i had two authentic ***** in my day...
one was a black single mum who took me back
to her flat in Stratford, dragged her baby girl from the bed
to the floor, and her baby son, didn't want me to
penetrate her, tucked my **** in between her thighs,
i stopped, was woken by her son in the middle of the night,
took him and laid him on my chest and we fell asleep...
so yeah, prostitution is ALL BAD... coming from a theorist
who hasn't experienced the drudgery of lives "unexpected"
via eventualities akin to Chernobyl... given that the most
paranoid nation scared and scaring others concerning
a nuclear holocaust is the only one to set two off... two!
Pearl Harbour was an army attack on an army base...
what the Americans did was just a very quick Holocaust.

Mother; I love you. I cannot say it enough but it is true. You were the first voice I heard, also was the one who taught me my first words.
For nine months it was me and you, with your care and God’s will your pregnancy with me made it through.
From the start your name was mom, and you was the first woman I loved.
As my teacher, you taught me how to be a leader; as my friend you taught me to loyal to the end.
As I grew there were lessons to be learned, when I broke rules my britches you didn’t hesitate to burn.
Mother; I love you!
I may have not show you the love I have, I didn’t understand I was on a rough path.
The arguments and my constant rebellion, I chased what I thought was success but, you saw me failing.
On a road of destruction, raising a teenage boy couldn’t of been an easy lesson.
When I decided the streets was my way, your love for me never strayed.
And when those prison doors shut, it was a quick reminder of you whooping my ****.
Mother; I love you!
With your sickness, it made me grow and mature with the quickness.
I had to become a father, so you could become a grandmother.
I became a husband so you could be a mother-in-law, all of these I made sure you saw.
As your time on earth was getting short, I knew I was going to lose my mother’s love and support.
Now that you are gone, I understand the man you left was strong.
No mom you raised no fool, and for that I will always love you.
Mother; I love you….
By, C. E. Cheatham

As the moon disappears and dawn begins to shine on your beauty as it illuminates the world; to show all of its inner and outer grace.
     Flowers and trees may tremble as a gentle breeze tickles the leaves and also the petals, to earthly play a game of tag.
     The fingers of the sun reaches out to warm your toes to welcome you as you rose.
     To see your inner beauty seep from deep inside of your soul come to the surface with such a glorious glow.
     My passion for you seems to engulf this spirit and guide my thoughts and actions as I draw near.
     Mmm, your scent smothers me with an addictive arousal, making it difficult for my body to travel.
     As time for work nears it is you where I want to spend the day, and if I had one wish it would be on me to stay.
     My love for you will never be more expressed as it swells and escape my chest.
     Just letting the universe know of you; the one I cherish and adore the best.
By C. E Cheatham

With the illumination of rays from a high, as with the wetness on the blooms in the fields a new beginning has arrived.
Melodies tickles the ear brought by winged beast, a calming attitude shall bestow peace.
Doing all just for ambiguity but in a place of misery, by being surrounded with a lopsided liberty.
To gallop through yards of wildflowers or sail the seven seas, your passion will always shine in what you believe.
To gaze upon the clouds not knowing what is a midst, seeking knowledge and answers to questions to make the good spirits lift.
The journey that lies ahead will not commence without a step taken, being ready to siege the day comes with being awaken.
Listening to the joyful sounds of laughter and young ones a play, with the excitement of opportunity on the inside you will not stay.
The aromas of nature intoxicate the nasal cavity, with the most pleasurable of pleasant scents. No visible ***** of moisture in the sky, so nice your question is why?
While the hours go by, the plot of  your journey is away and you are truly enamored with this lovely summer day.
By, CE Cheatham

For there is a storm a coming
Clouds litter the sky
Over yonder, the masses scatter even a few are running
Foresight is not a sense
And not listening to the sounds
Being rumbled, is what keeps the young from being solid
To a crumble
Two ears and one mouth is key
So youth listen two times more than you speak
By C E Cheatham

When we can sight our edge
Heavily one will patiently pace
For knowing what lies ahead
Eliminates the risk of the stray
In darkness the tread is lightly
Knowledge illuminates ones step
Ever so brightly
Cautious and calm will steady the hand
It is the unknown that drives your curiosity
And the known that keeps the feet at a stand
Be willing to seek for you to guide your journey
CE Cheatham

As I am longing for your embrace and gentle kisses dreams of making you my wife and mistress.
Engulf my thoughts and actions leaving me with quite confusing intentions.
Shall I pursue aggressively to show my way of being passionately caring and loving or.
Shall I tip-toe with a shyness approach with small laughs muted giggles while remaining a riddle?
To unveil a package with enthusiasm and actually being what you could only fathom as a dream.
Self-esteem keeps my drive going my confidence allows me to stop wandering what could or can be.
By the twinkle in your eye I am willing to give you much more than a try.
Happiness is the joining of you and I.
C E Cheatham

America the great, America the fake, history says our past was filled with mistakes. Maybe it was all that could be done, possibly they didn’t know their actions would cause us not to grow? Peace and acceptance is all we wanted, all we received was violence. Demonstrated with peaceful protest and was attacked by man and beast. Groups were formed to show unity, quickly the opposition infiltrated the groups with no impunity.  Using trickery to cause division, and murderous plots against all black leaders, or buying their voices to control black people, and made them black people steerers.

With this format in place it allowed them to do what they wanted to. No resistance just acceptance not willing to go to war, but stay quiet and take some more. We have held every possible position but look at the spot we are still in.

We teach our youth to stand up against bullies, all the while we are being bullied. Our fathers, our sons, and even our mothers are being killed, yet and still some black leaders will come on TV and ask you to be quiet and stand still. We will fight one another to the death about respect. It is time to show we won’t lay down and be checked. Be willing to protect yours and the brothers who are willing to stand on your right and left. Enough is enough and truth be told the pressure we feel is from our on hold. So it’s time to take your hand off your own throat. Time to show we are not taking no more. We want our respect from shore to shore.


By, C. E. Cheatham