Curry Crisps
In 1981 and 82 at Littlemoor School I was in Junior 4
With the rest of the little wankers who were my classmates
I used to buy curry flavoured crisps for 10p at break time
I got them every day and even now miss them  
They were the best crisps I ever tasted so yummy!
In a curry coloured packet oh what’s to come!
They were the highlight of my time in that school
Where I went from the bottom of the class to the top
England defeated Argentina in the Falkland’s War
I destroyed a school bully in the bogs by hammer punches
We called our teacher Miss Oliver Sergeant ****
The thing I remember most is curry flavoured crisps
I wish I could go back and get ten boxes of curry crisps!

Postin em up
dunkin on em like KD
that's ****** up
Can't slow down
Curry for 3 from downtown
Takin it
Faking it
Makin it
Draymond makin em look like fools out here
blockin shots into next year
Don't need that screen
off the dribble *****,
they mean
not lettin up
hell no, not even Draymond Green
gettin that win everyday
splash, this time it's Klay
5 seconds to go in the 4th
they hittin one at half court!
clutch as ****
the other team?
good luck..

DONALD TRUMP IS MAD AT SPORT
ALL THE ATHLETES MUST STAND UP
DON'T DISRESPECT THE AMERICAN FLAG
THE WHITE HOUSE HAS HAD ENOUGH



ALL INVITATIONS TO THE PLAYERS
THE WHITE HOUSE HAS TAKEN AWAY
CURRY AND LEBRON JAMES
CAN VISIT ON ANOTHER DAY




DON'T DISRESPECT THE AMERICAN FLAG
LETS MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN
TRUMP ATTACKS THE SPORT AND ATHLETES
FOR ON TWITTER HE WILL SEND


TRUMP CHRONICLES   amazon.com

Give 'em the old
Razzle dazzle,
Frizzle frazzle.

Hair big enough to reach
The clouds,
Ambition strong enough
To sail through the
Massive, roaring crowds.

The lights - they feel
good.
The adrenaline - heart's pumping
The way it should.

Sing, dream - the way
You please.

Give 'em the old
Razzle dazzle,
Frizzle frazzle
To-night.

She cooks her dishes with such panache and zest,
as if both are  two new  dishes for me to taste,
her dainty waist, arrested my eyes,
then the mind ******, thunder thighs,
all I want is to stick to her all over like curry paste.

Dough making
with flour and water
Salt and butter
Calls for kneading
In ritualistic candor
As parts come together
To an irreversible matter

The soft cushion of dough
between the palm and the bowl
pliable with every push and shove
stretched and compressed
In sheepish conformity


Blistered on  skillet
Puffed up to a chapati
Heavens thanked with each bite
For flat bread with savory curry
Fills nostrils with soft aromas-
Relished as heaven on tongue-
One is contented of this flat bread

Dark thoughts run through me
Like a curry burning me
Open the window

Life is
About getting buckets.
How would Kobe live if he couldn't?
That's a mystery mankind will never truly comprehend.
A bucketless Kobe is a fake Kobe.
The sound of that string music is unmatchable.

The Kareem sky hook.
The Curry j.
The Kobe fadeaway.
The PG windmill.
These are all different forms,
They all get buckets.

Cherish these buckets like no other.
One day you will be old and grey.
Like bill Russell.
You won't be able to get buckets anymore except for in your dreams.
When your career is over. You will miss it.
You can't get buckets forever.