ted bundy traps the people of hawker, last night by cutting their power in a half hour blackout

and the hawker residents are either walking around with torches or simply struggling, and ted

bundy is enjoying this a lot, you see he really wanted to silence the mood of brian allan’s vivid imagination

but brian believes in the cosmos and he is sending cronus up there to work on returning hawkers power

and silence the cosmic criminal ted bundy forever and ever, but ted bundy wanted to silence brian, as his mind

as his mind is trying to avoid the teasing of the past, like, today, ted bunny was trying to get a kid to smile at brian,

saying, your like us now man, because you have an imagination and brian said, bundy, i want you to free us hawker

residents, by returning their power or i will get a keg of methane and pour it right through your head, and then cronus

said, i have kidnapped cronus away from his boy, ya know, your theory of mens kids watch the sport and youtubes

better than foxtel, ya see you will suffer brian allan and suffer forever and ever and ever with the other hawker residents

and you will miss your precious baseball match on television, and brian forced cronus to please give hawker back their power,

please give back our power, cronus worked harder and harder to get hawkers power back, but ted bunny’s power won’t budge

and ted bundy is laughing from up in mars saying foolish hawker earthlings, i have put a dark side into each one of their houses

they are tripping over each other, cool as, meanwhile cronus is trying and trying to get hawkers power back, saying please come back,

please come back, while ted bundy said, no i don’t want it to come back, hawker will be in the dark forever, the foolish earthlings they are

they are trapped in my wing, then cronus noticed some damp ***** rocks which was from the river and unknown to cronus, ted bundy

set these wild waters free to knock the electricity pole over and cause rain thunder and lightning, and cronus put 2 and 2 together

and cronus has discovered what ted bunny has been doing to cause cyclones and lightning causing blackouts in hawker, and cronus

worked and worked to restore the power back, by putting his foot in the muddy mars hollow and sliding down it, and when he arrived

at the base, cronus put a rock in the thunder break, and ding **** the power is back on, but ted bunny ran away, saying ha ha ha ha

i am causing problems for cronus and earthlings, and this will happen and happen again, so try and listen to climate change and

keep a torch handy, because ted bundy isn’t the only evil we have up here, causing havoc like this

You see hawker shops was very poxley today when they had this wheel where one of the prizes was a hug
And mate I think that is very poxley very very poxley
I prefer to watch jimmy Barnes and Tim Minchin rather than spin a stupid wheel they put there for the kids
There is no way that hawker shops will be popular today
And mate it looks very poxley
This is my house and I live in it
It is made of glass and photographs of people that you
Have met at least once in your life
But this stupid wheel in hawker
Is stupid and I think it is not for
The local shops
It is better at the ovals
Where they need to give out better prizes than free hugs
**** me that sounds so poxley
**** it does and I prefer to remain young and free rather than be old and stupid
Why the **** do they have a wheel in the middle of the shops for it sounds so poxley
It will be different if it was a proper prize wheel but this was totally poxley dudes
I will wait in my house till 3-46
For it to *******

John hawker English also was the official surgeon for the Swedish army.and this was a hard job patching up each and every wounded soldier who suffered there and sometimes it was easy and sometimes it was mighty hard for him
Because being apart of the Swedish army and fixing people up makes John think that the people he couldn't save and
All the people who yelled at him
You see John never had a family apart from a brother and parents because he devoted his
Soldiers at the Swedish army as his family and yes it was emotional when he couldn't save anyone and when he died
He had the Swedish army by his side nobody could save him
Despite John putting his best work for the Swedish army
Mind you death happens
You can't save everyone

silly kids oh silly kids are so stupid kids, asking me, the wrong person to be put in a team



oh yeah i was coming out of woolies with my chocolate and my drinks

and the kids asked me to sign them up for the magpies

just because i had a magpies t shirt on

he was a poor poor kid, whose parents don’t give a **** about him

but really i don’t know how i can help him

because he wanted to play footy, well, what boy doesn’t

well, probably he is teasing me, but i think he is a poor kid suffering

under, tony, fucken abbotts, wing

and this kid needs to be given a go, but i think he was weird ya see

because i am just the bbq man, and i have no authority to put him in a team

i love life, and i hate men who bully, any kind of bullying

i don’t want to get bullied, I’m just want to do my art

and eat chicken wings, and go on outings with people i know

i hate what the young dudes used to say to me, they were horrible

to me, i was a nice person, never put a foot wrong

that kid was under a spell from tony abbott or ronnie biggs and ted bunny

yeah it could be cosmic, or he might really want to play for the magpies

magpies club there is a kid on hawker who wants to play for the club

ok dudes give him a go 4 it

It’s evening
The hawkers at the station are loud
One is selling lottery tickets
The girl in her old dress, and new earrings caresses her earrings to feel their weight in her hands
She looks at the lottery tickets and wonders why people believe in them


A local comes along with a wave of people
She stands upright and surfs the wave to stay
She knows this isn’t the local she is waiting for
She tells the boy she is with that she had a great time
And he thanks her for a wonderful evening.
He looks at her face one more time, not quite ready to say goodbye yet
He looks at the clock at the station. It’s precisely 8:06 PM
The local will come at 8:08 PM.
He is hoping it’ll be late today.
He needs those extra seconds to prepare himself.
Certain goodbyes in life are harder than you thought they would be.
He looks straight into the eyes of the girl
And sees his reflection in her eyes
Scared of what he sees, he looks away
The girl adornes her new earrings again
She looks at the clock
The old rusty clock still shows 8:06 PM
Time had slowed down for her.
She feels the platform shaking
She fears it is the local approaching earlier?
She hugs him without a seconds delay
Surprised, the boy blushes. And continues the embrace
He whispers to her and tells her, that her earrings are pretty
She smiles
Perhaps this is the best way to say good bye.
The clock is now at 8:08PM and the local is not there yet
They both smile at each other, then look at the clock.
The boy can see the local approaching. He hugs her tighter once again.
And makes sure she doesn’t see the approaching train
She slowly slides out of his arms like sand from a man’s fist. He tries holding her firmer, but in vain
They both smile at each other and say an awkward bye.
She boards the local and tries to find a seat.
He waits patiently at the platform waiting for her to look out once more
The local is about to move and his heart is beating faster than the engine
He can feel her sight on him and looks her way.
She has a crooked smile with which she waves at him.
He waits at the station till the local moves.
He walks a bit with the local and then stops next to the hawker.
He waves at her one more time and watches as the train goes.
He looks at the hawker and wonders why people believe in lotteries.His phone buzzes in his pocket.
He has a big grin, he won the lottery after all
He walks out of the station with a jump in his step as he pats the Bandra station board.

From the day his mother died
He had no time to mourn.
From the very next morn
The same robe he had to adorn
Same wares he sold door to door,
Forgetting mother is no more!

1.
any colour may be applied to the
night-dress

this city actually has no cart
driven by horses

before a pretty long time the shepherds
had also told adieu

by secret signalling the red-hat addiction
called the pigeons  sitting on the broken sticks
of the antenna to come nearer

on those dead-news the travel-story
keeps awake by whole night

and pours down on eye-lids
clouds
wrapped with cellophane

one day that wave sent
rolling-down-on-the-back hair
to the yellow balcony

those are all ancient drama

in the glow of the back-light you can see
civic humps have grown up on the back
of the birds every day and night

yet
under the dead-stop ceiling fan the dance
of the ****** reel wet with sweat does not fall short

the paper-buckles with the flowers painted on it
gets more and more tight on the air of the throat

velpuris of the evening
offer full enjoyment

2.
the night that comes all walking on the sands of the desert
how much concern does she has about the navigability of the river

when the husk of the water-chestnut is got open
flowing down the waves bursting into a blaze

to that flow is open the motor-car
the wan procession
and all the fishes that want to go upward the wave

so many varieties of floating

if the matter of clouds be let off
the multi-coloured fingers
also have so many infotainments  

if the question of  moveable property is  raised
it is only a suicide-note from my father

and a knot
in the robe of the blue trouser

3.
the trees and creepers of the night
and the plants and herbs of the day
do all of them have the same blood-group

there is much flora
inside the jail-custody also
and in this ruins of the old palace

how much is it justified
to express eagerness about the geography
of one’s character

specially of the trees
of the fishes
or of the humans

it is said
all rivers
flowing through the bodies of the great men
are totally ******

there is also the blank desert
on the silent snow-valley
in the corner of your
lips

4.
on this spine
having a mouth of crocodile
always jump down
the climate    

everyday
the sunglass changes

look at the soil and the sky
no one of them has any body-guard

the open mouth of the light
swallows the grey coin

here the wall becomes more tamed
the wild jasmine comes nearer to the heart
and hums

then ripping open my veins
should i also ***** the blue elocution
accumulated on the ****-pit

after recovery of the flower-mill from fever
the harmonium is being played on  

even introduction with the gas-balloon
has not been done yet

5.
arrangements are being made

the green shirt will gradually
turn reddish

the culverts that have become exhausted
within the travel-format
will get recharged again to sit up straight

and the hawker will get passed the silent-home
shouting with undressed coconuts in hands

from the lap of the stand-still rocking-cradles
of the children-park
the amaltas will say
i’m ready

then to escape the sun-shine
the boy who comes to attend the private tuition
will embrace… oh margosa … its your pierced-heart

you may tell him that the name of the girl
who is eating guava and swinging her legs
sitting on its branch is munni

6.
the horse is running
just above 3 feet of the yellow cornice

his back is full of dreams
or a girl named miss dorothy  

around it is the mid-night
around it is the wind that wants to be printed

and in every corner of its flying
are hundreds of skirts
  
all are of free-size

what may be their market-price
there is no shop-keeper there

in that valley
a shadow is proceeding on

do you know whose shadow it is
he is philip the teacher who gets irritated easily

this time there is no thin cane
in his hand

in the pieces of papers dumped in the waste-box
under his window there is a manuscript eaten up by the worms

there is ‘darling’ there
and ‘yours beloved greta’

in which skirt
a touch of that greta does remain  

is it being searched even today

is it greta or margaret or eliza  
there is no bar if it is dorothy

in whose smell there is no greta
who has no such horse flying just above three feet
of the yellow cornice  

each mid-night fills the fountain pen
with the flow of blue ink

7.
the leaf of jack-fruit is luxuriant
i can’t remember whether i ever notice
the portrait of your face on it  

there are so many words
that are slippery

how much rustic is the dust of the legs
of the young person is known to the road of the city

daubing green on both palms
i call for rain …oh rain ..oh rain

and into that rain i let my wrist-watch float

thus the great rainbow unfolds its wise mirror
on the scaffold of bottle-gourd  

from the bright cloth-end falling down
the odour of detergent

thus the applied mathematics of the diesel
is learnt to a greater extent

8.
behind the change of colour of the swelled wind
the samovar plays no role

though you know it you tear off tears
from your eyes

and the merry biscuits that are kept in the jar
raise a joint demand to serve them
after wrapping with new banana-leaves  

and the funny thing is that no accounts is found out
of the expenditure on the lip-stick that was used
by the fishes in the aquarium  at the time of illness
of the antenna

by the hands of the clock stretching their shanks apart
is it possible to know the actual age of a comb
either it’s costly or cheap  

9.
like the light
like the dark

yet it is full of the sound of steps
again it wakes up on the forest-road  

taking leave from the yellow construction
all the sound of the bamboo-flute
sinks today into the green minerals

it is not moonlight
on the road it is some north-east sadness

he who comes admits his body
with the divine sin

if you are sorry be water for three days now

through out the day and night
there is the paraffin of fire-flies

the blue cough is not from the sky

it may be some tusu-gaan fly off
from the chest of the straight-line
that has been wiped out

10.
i’ve deposited my metallic heart
to the archaeological-store of the wind

and i send rolling this bare eyes towards the fog
frequently

i make the crystal of her hair soft

i can see those crows
whose jaws are not closed

the colour is also
as if it were burst into cotton

can the anchal of danekhali sari swallow the kernel
and water of the blue tooth-brash after opening its husk

i say to the head with earnest request
oh my father keep cool
and look at the rain-pipe inside which
there is all the dances of the peacocks

11.
in the dim light
the predecessors of the dead stars
tell stories

this dhaba
is beside the long bus-root

yet it is still not satisfied
with the shrimps

the tail of the black drongo
hanging from the farakka bridge
is divided

towards the ganga
towards the padma

the gramophone of the mid-noon
continues to sound at the midnight

those who are doing pilgrimage
on the back of tigers

within the lighting zone of their torch
all the nearest of men who get lost
cover their faces

you know very well that the memory-gland of the wind
becomes how much river-minded when it walks through the fire

Off to sell 'market tomatoes' to those East Atlanta communist
Those long haired , know it all Bolsheviks and their
electric cars , running around half naked like they have
a clue about a farm , their buying these god awful tomatoes
for two dollars apiece , they smell like *** , wine and sun
screen haggling over my price like I'm growing food for
free , like I've no other place to be
Are these organic , absolutely don't panic , their grown
in A1 chicken **** , the finest soil I've ever been associated with ,
a secret family recipe cooked in Georgia July heat , blessed by
a 'Witch Doctor' from New Orleans , a bit of peat from lowland
forest , cow patties from a friends dairy barn , dry manure thanks to
a 'Horse Princess' from Zebulon , ****** on by a pack of ornery goats in the village of Kelleytown

The devil's speech say they:
Rolling, clattering, frolicking, hungry.
Billows of charred skeletons embrace the air
Black soot pumped straight from the pyres of Hades
Congealing to clouds of evil intent wherever it roam.
That charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.

In the coughing desert
Not a thing dares roam
Neither wind nor creature
And neither stick nor stone.
But then the silence disturbed by a horrible shriek -
The railway screams in horror and the train itself speaks, saying
   "Tell me, thou innocent,
       Why feel you special and best?
   For when all is done I take you
       And return you to my nest;
   Your world is bright and happy
       Full of high spirits and song,
Though soon you too shall step aboard
       And join my faceless throng."

Hot saliva on the heaving engines:
Weeping, groaning, ghostly, parched.
Rusted joints spewed onwards grinding resisting
Movement spat out like a violently beaded string of curses
Sloppily uttered as incantations of a malformed mouth!
From that charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.

That dark train cries out and all around
A mourning whimper rises like slumbering fog-
Bleak and yellow it obscures the land
Seeping out insidious in strange locales all:
The old lonely fisherman
Sleeping on his wharf,
The frustrated hawker's
Windblown barefaced booth,
Silent streets crying for attention,
Dark places hidden at the corner of every eye.

That solemn train cries out and all around
Her mourning whimper rises like harrowing fog
Calling all to upright attention and fear.
Looming like a spectre but a breath-span from your window
Slowly closing cold dread claws-
Naked numbness dumb as ice-
Cold dread claws upon thy waist.
And you,
You poor old thing,
Shivering in your pitiful shack of bones,
You never had any chance!
You were only human.
You were only human, you poor old thing.

Barreling on with brimstone slang:
Clang clang! Dang dang! Beelz Bub!
Sputtering an ocean of curses from turgid goat-flesh
Born of sadness to cause even more, yawning great maw
Jowls clanking with fresh hot oil drool steaming stark and lewd, and yet
That charred old shell so terse,
Blacker than sadness and slain like a hearse,
Is all that gives meaning to our every gain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.

You see where did I get the inspiration to play the coopers
And play livestock
Avoid doctors and vets
Well there could be many reasons but if you look at my previous life story you will see
I was doctor and surgeon John
Hawker English who was born in 1788 and died in 1840 and in that time I won awards as well as saving lives of all the people who passed through the hospital doors and every October the hospital ran it's very own chess tournament and John hawker English won 5 years of the tournament and
Also John was a mad religious freak who every Sunday went to church to meet up with the congregation and listen to the sermons, his biggest job was the postman who came off his bicycle in 1806 and without all the modern technology of today John had to work on saving the postmans life and it took him about 3 days and 2 operations and by all means it nearly killed him but he survived it and in 1812 there was this drinking ***** being brought in with a heart attack
And needed a quick bypass
But this was going to be hard and then in 1801 there was a
Accident with a horse and Cart
With school kids on it crashed into the English Channel and John was having a hard time saving all the kids and he saved 80% of the kids with 4 little girls was washed out to sea and died
And John was being yelled at by the 4 children's families
There were more emergencies
And the town had mix reactions
About john's way he handles the operations but on John's death bed John hawker English said people die and sometimes you can save them unfortunately you can't save everyone and then he died

The Hawker Hurricane is a British fighter design from the 1930s. Some 14,000 Hurricane and Sea Hurricane fighters and fighter-bombers were built by the end of 1944。 August 1940 brought what has become the Hurricane's shining moment in history: The Battle of Britain. RAF Hurricanes accounted for more enemy aircraft kills than all other defenses combined, including all aircraft and ground defenses. Later in the war, the Hurricane served admirably in North Africa, Burma, Malta, and nearly every other theater in which the RAF participated. The Hurricane underwent many modifications during its life, resulting in many major variants, including the Mk IA, with interchangeable wings housing eight 7.7mm (0.303in) guns;the Mk IIC, with a Merlin ** engine; the Mk IID, a tankbuster with two 40mm anti-tank guns plus two 7.7mm guns. During the war, Hurricanes were sold to Egypt, Finland, India, the Irish， Persia, Turkey and the USSR Air Corps.More in http://www.rangorango.com/124-series-c-1_5.html