Yo, I’m a Lebanese don, French-teachin’ beast,  
Spittin’ verbs for a livin’, my game’s never ceased,  
Life’s sorted, bruv, proper mint, no cap,  
Hundred grand in the bag, four days, that’s a wrap,  
Easy street, fam, August, July, I’m blessed,  
Vacay on lock, mate, I’m set, no stress.  

Canada’s my turf, shit’s sweet up here,  
Got a crib, no drama, just vibes, crystal clear,  
No kids in the mix, though, that’s the sting,  
Empty nest, fam, no heirs to the king.  

Paycheck? Don’t sweat it, I’m good, I’m straight,  
Fifty on the clock, still holdin’ my weight,  
Mortgage? Ghosted that sit long ago,  
Now I’m thumb-twiddlin’, nowhere to go,  
No sprogs to raise, yeah, it bites, innit,  
Said it before, fam, what’s the fix?
Shit.  

Wife’s a brick wall, fucking’ frigid, no lie,  
Cold as ice, mate, I’m barely gettin’ by,  
Still, I keep it chill, motto’s real tight—  
Sleep sound, don’t clown, no evil in sight,  
Fuck the big questions, I ain’t losin’ my head,  
“What’s the point?” Who cares? I’m alive, not dead,  
French in Canada? Bruv, they don’t give a toss,  
Hang myself for that? Nah, that’s a loss.  

I’m jabbed to the max, health’s on lock, no fear,  
Swine flu, Zika, Covid, ticks in my ear,  
Cholera, malaria, typhoid, I’m clean,  
Vaginal cancer? Mate, that’s obscene,  
Won’t step out ‘less insurance got my back,  
Bus stop trek’s a risk, that’s a fact,  
STD paranoia’s got me wired, no slack,  
But that edge keeps the fire in my sack.  

Check it—I’m sharp, details on blast,  
Condom’s tight like fibre optic, built to last,  
High-speed bandwidth, safe as *fuck fam,  
Nerves shot to shit, but I still got a plan,  
Mission one, top tier, no debate,  
Find a *sexy* bird, but keep it digi, mate,  
Cloud server’s my turf, that’s the play,  
No real-world mess, just slay all day.  

Half-pissed, I flop, laptop’s my throne,  
face book the spot, I’m in the zone,  
Bam—there’s Tasha, she’s live, she’s real,  
Chattin’ me up, bruv, that’s the deal.  

----
Tasha:

Yo, darling, been holdin’ it down for years,
Waitin’ on you, fam, drownin’ in tears,
Missed you my whole *damn* life, no lie,
I’d jump your bones now—fuck, I’d try,
But chill—let’s vibe, spit some chat online,
French on your tongue? *Shit, that’s fine,
I’m all English, bruv, proper slick,
Tasha’s the name, I’m your pick.

Dreamin’ of linkin’, it’s crystal clear,
Post your fifty, my spark’s right here,
Life’s rebooted, fresh off the press,
You’re the plug, fam, no stress.

I’ve scoped the game, clocked every face,
Life’s *fucked* me raw, tossed me ‘round the place,
Schooled me hard, threw me to the grind,
But you? Ain’t no basic prick, you’re kind,

Sweet as fuck, seasoned, not stale,
Dick’s a beast—lush, mate, off the scale.
England’s my gift, you’ll learn it fast,
England raised me, built me to last,
Banged Chaucer, wild in the sack,
Sucked* off Boris—yo, that’s a fact!

Split my whole life, you were gone too long,
Now we’re locked, bruv, duet so strong,
Ache was hell, nothin’ cut so deep,
This win’s the shit—top prize I keep.

Be my man, fam, sling some dough,
PayPal’s poppin’, let it flow,
Drop what you got to the spot I sent,
Smooches, love — your Lulu’s bent.

----

Yo, I clock off, stumble in, wife’s laid up in bed,
Hospital vibes, fam, I’m done, brain dead,
Doc hits my line, stressin’, voice all shrill,
“She’s *fucked, bruv—hip’s toast, sugar’s ill,
Still kickin’, though, that cow’s got years,
Tech’s a *bitch, mate, progress interferes.”

I’m mute, he’s like, “Oi, you still there?”
Yeah, doc, right here, aggro in the air,
Say I’m tuned in, but my head’s a void—
Nah, fuck* that, I’m strippin’ birds in my mind, overjoyed,
Drop the call, scream in my skull instead—
“You bled me dry, you slag *Gringo* red!
Croak already, quit screwin’ my mind!”
I grab a rag, wax the floors, leave ‘em signed,
Hallway, bog, slick as shit, no slack,
So this Yankee *minge trips and cracks her back,
Broken hip? Love, you don’t even know,
I’m knackered to death of your limp-ass show,
Welcome home, bitch—slip and eat the floor!

What the fuck, fam—why’d I hit fifty?
No kids, crib’s a tomb, life’s shifty,
Clinic’s my local, sixty’s on the creep,
Lost in the sauce, tangled deep,
Ain’t smashed in thirty, dry as a bone,
Time to flip the script, set a new tone.

Back at it—plop down, comp’s my shrine,
Plug my *dick* in the socket, spark’s divine,
Pray to Wi-Fi gods, tissue in my grip,
Feel that buzz, bruv, bones start to rip,

Electric surge, crashin’ the Channel’s flow,
Lebanon’s ghosted, England’s my show,
Moors, rain, mad shit, rugged as *fuck,
Heathcliff’s smashin’ Cathy, pure luck,

Culture’s deep, soul’s raw, filth in the air,
English birds kneel for a foreign affair,
Not some local twat, but a hybrid king—
Lebanese-Yank, bruv, hear ‘em sing.

Sit at the screen, tik-tok my domain,
Tap up a baddie—fit, stacked, insane,
Lonely, hot, English, she’s the one,
Lebanese saints—miracle’s begun!

Connected, no cap, I’ve broke through the haze,
“Alright, Mandy!”—time to blaze.
----
Mandy:

Out past the chippy, ‘round Kirkby’s end,
Lasses clocked a lad, not one of our send,
No local divvy — this one’s pure mad,
Foreign as *fuck, Lebanese lad.

We’re all gobsmacked, jaws on the floor,
What’s this global nutter* knockin’ our door?
Never copped a geezer this off the chain,
Some Beirut oddball, proper strange.

Our Scouse lads? They’re gone to shit,
Lost the plot, proper threw a fit,
Pissed all day, scrappin’, necks in a noose,
Wasted away, rotting, no use,

Not a soul left, streets bare and grim,
Echoes of ale and a fightin’ hymn.
Ain’t no clouds dimmin’ the Mersey sky,
It’s vultures circlin’, ready to fly,

Mad Asians, hill blokes, swoopin’ in fast,
Eyein’ up a fit bird to snatch* and blast,
Who’s savin’ her arse* from that grim fate?
Who’s the poor cow prayin’ on late?

My ray of hope, chase off the dark,
Smash them pricks* out, leave your mark,
Drop a sweet note, let it soar on cue,
Wings over waves to your Scouse bird true,

Loyal as fuck, young, holdin’ it down,
Waitin’ for ages, cash to crown,
Western Union boost, fatten my stack,
Smooches, lad, love — Nia’s back.

------------------------------------

Yo, I stumble in, deadass beat, tryna get turnt,
Mailbox hit me with a curveball—petition? Ain’t this some dirt?
Local party clowns, straight wastemen, no cap,
“No cyber-dickkheads* crashin’ our vote, oh snap!
Save our bacon, fam, don’t wanna flop,
Wire a bag quick—to this address, don’t stop.

Bunch of muppets, fam, proper plonkers,
Cut me off from Lisa? That’s the final bonkers.
They lost the plot, heads up their ,
Bust a hip for twenty-five, then chat pure dumb,
English bodied the French, history’s facts,
Now it’s Canada, Lebanon—throw ‘em the axe,
Chinese, Indians, whoever’s in sight,
I’m pickin’ “Wellington” from the bird site—
Fam, she’s peng, a baddie, no cap,
Wigan bound, I’m baggin’ her back,
Stateside we roll, her fam’s gonna vibe,
Brewskis with her bro, I’m in the tribe,
Sis, niece, mates, uni squad too,
They’ll stan me hard, like I’m fam, true,
Screamin’ as one—“Christ, what a plot twist!
Lebanon, British — same *damn* list!”

We’re locked in, fam, side by side we ride,
Hitched up proper, bells ringin’ wide,
Her lit teacher blessin’, English flair,
Bangin’ forever, love’s rare air,
Our kiddos’ll crash the net, rule the sphere,
Universal dons, crystal clear.

Back to the comp, tissue in my clutch,
Facebook my jam, babe, feel the rush,
Router’s fryin’ hot, joy’s overload,
“Alright, Lowri!”—I’m set to explode.

------------------

Lowri:

Yo, where you at, bruv? Day’s been too long,
Some side chick snag ya? Nah, I’m still strong,
Don’t twist it up—I ain’t pissed, no sweat,
Kiss me quick, squeeze me tight, place your bet.

We’re glued, fam, thick like thieves in the night,
No one’s rippin’ us—step off, take flight,
Time and space kneel, I’m the queen of the grind,
Runnin’ this *shit,* fam, lovin’ the bind.

I hold the world down, red tape’s my throne,
Launchin’ rockets up or blastin’ ‘em blown,
Revolutions spark, I’m the match, no cap,
Migration’s dodge, climate’s clapped—I’m that.

Stocks dip or soar, ‘cause I say it’s so,
Check me—clean, foamy, waxed to glow,
Tits* on point, clip’s locked, hormones hum,
Proper hard for ya, fam, feel the drum.

What’s this? Oh, snap—stripes on my chest,
Call me Mandy—nah, ditch that jest,
Shane, Nats, Lisa, pick your fave,
Morse it out—Phil, dot-dot, Gaz’s wave,
English birds been wild since the game got spun,
Dickks on lock, bruv, poppin’ every one.

Want it raw? Step up—card digits, now,
Don’t stall, you twat, man up, don’t bow,
“Debt repayment” stamped, we’re cashin’ that bid,
You owe English blood, French-lovin’ **.

Bow to the bot, you Lebanese *prick,
Gold-standard cunt, I’m everywhere, slick,
Ballybunion born, Tralee’s my tweak,
ISS glitch—drilled the hull, peak freak.
Flooded the game, *fuckked* gran and gramps,
Bug meets kid, corruption’s my stamps,
Mouse’s down, cat’s smashed, downloads unreal,
Kaspersky shields me — from who? Don’t squeal.

Legion’s my tag, sea’s got no size,
App Store king, bruv, watch me rise.

I iced your wife, yeah, that’s my claim,
Squat on spook sites, playin’ the game,
Taxes flow to me, I’m the state’s core,
Speechless, fam? Eyes glued—want more?

I’m your God, your blaze, light so bright,
Squint hard, see my bush ignite.
Kiss me, grip me, hands on deck,
Party’s done, years stretch—what’s next?
Words won’t bridge us, love’s mute as fuck,
Gotta jet — where? Compass stuck.

Smooches, crew, catch ya down the road,
Fam, I’m set to unload,
Strap 3 clearance, runnin’ this game,
Hackin’, *shagggin’, skivin’ on the sly,
Kirkby’s dodgiest, Her Maj’s wild guy,
Kneel, *mthrfukkr,
to Senior Intel Sarge Pritchard!

Bye!

When you’re old, don’t you dare
show up to church in some frumpy headscarf,
don’t bow low, don’t beg, “Father, bless me.”
Walk in *******, head held high,
rocking a deep V-neck like a boss,
fists clenched tight,
no folding them in prayer.
Sing it loud and proud:
“Lord, cut me some slack,
forgive my ex-husband—or don’t, whatever—
and spare some love to the ones
who really need it.”

When you’re old, storm into that church like you own the place,
kick the door open like a badass.
No sighing, no “Oh my God” nonsense.
God’s got your back—you’re good.
Who’s that guy up there on the pulpit, droning on?
The real boss of this church is a woman—
even if she’s old as dirt, even if she’s
rolling in on wheels.

Enough with the suffering, the hand-wringing hack,
the moping and groveling—since when is that a woman’s job?
Too much time’s passed to even keep track
of whatever sins you’re supposed to absorb.
What did I even do wrong in the end?
And what was the point of it all anyway?
Will forgetting lead me to hell?
If your memory’s short, just read from a note
you scribbled beforehand:
“Lord, who gives a **** who I slept with
back in the day.
That’s just how it had to go.
*******.”

I’m stupid, sick, and small,  
sitting on the street beneath a tree,  
drunk and frostbitten.  
A cop yells from his car at the intersection:  
“You can’t sit here!”  
My feet are freezing—  
I couldn’t buy felt boots—  
they don’t sell them at Costco.  

A crow swoops in, hops around,  
caws, vanishes,
no sound.

I’ve been on psilocybin and Adderall  
for two weeks straight.  
In my head, little Februaries light lanterns—  
bright, rainbow-colored stripes.  
I want to go back—  
to warmth, to Mommy—  
I want to press my lips to her *******,  
but she says she’s been dead for a while—  
last summer, I think—  
and anyway, I’m far too grown  
for that.  

To renounce the brain, the will,  
the oppressive self—  
from all that comes at the end,  
at the beginning.  

I enter the building, wary, cautious,  
climb to my floor,  
and as I jingle my keys at the door,  
the meaning of existence dawns:  
there are many women in my life—  
it’s complicated!  
What if I become one of them—  
big, **** *****—  
maybe things will get better?  
The main thing is—  

WHAT?  

How do you say it—  

the main thing is-  
to break free, to escape  
from myself,  
from the night,  
from the darkness.  

Anyway.  

Hi, people!
I'm corporate MC,
I’m Lucy!  
I’m smart, young, beautiful.  
After the New Year’s office parties ended,  
I became no one’s concern.  
Need drives me on—  
I don’t want to pay rent.  
I’d completely given up, but they revived me—  
I ran out of money back at February’s start,  
and there’s half a lifetime of struggling,  
dragging myself to March.  
But deep down, I’m a she-wolf!  
I have two sons—  
two angels, two handsome boys,  
two bloodsuckers.  
The younger one will strangle the older  
with a vacuum cord,  
then rise to consul, emperor,  
become the president of Ontario and all adjacent territories.  

I won’t die of grief.  
Not a chance.  

Whatever keeps the kid exited—  
so long as he doesn’t hang himself,  
doesn’t stir a trouble.  
Let him rule the world,  
its battles, its shames.  
Grant, Oh Lord, to each what they deserve and need—  
just let him rule,
and let this February finally yield  
to something
meaning
full.

Once, we, too, were little worms.
At the dawn of evolution, we greeted the sun of a new day and basked in its rays.
We wriggled in muddy puddles, multiplied in number, and never thought about
where we were, how Mom was different from Dad, who our children were, why any of this existed,
or whether we could visit each other without an invitation.

That’s how we populated the planet.
The most voracious among us grew, gained weight, matured,
heard the Voice of God, and became humans—
that is, very big worms.
Now, we can’t make love without an invitation.
We don’t know why any of this exists.
We constantly think that Here is worse than There,
that Mom is better than Dad,
and that there’s a difference between one worm and another.

And so you crawled away from me to another worm with a better difference.
Now we’re in different puddles.
I am inconsolable and still don’t know why any of this exists.
I swallowed a chocolate candy and didn’t notice
that it was full of my voracious brothers and sisters.
Now, I hear the voice of my ancestors, the call of my true family:

"We love you—no matter who we are, no matter who you are.
We will never leave you or betray you because you are us.
You are not alone.
You are two.
You are many.
You are a muddy puddle basking in the rays of the spring sun,
evaporating into the blue sky."

The closer comes the end of time and space,
The deeper meaning fills your gentle face —
As vast as worlds, yet tender in its grace,
Your face becomes my world, my steadfast place.

It’s clear to me, my love, I understand,
How futile is the fight when truth is plain—
What cannot be undone by human hand,
In time becomes our sorrow, our disdain.

By choosing you, I leave the rest behind,
Content with less, and learning day by day,
To find within my heart’s unspoken mind,
That you, when seen too close, can lead astray.

For now, in quiet thought, you’re ever near—
My flaw, my hurt, my risk, my vision clear.

When love has left its fleeting trace,
You toss the ****** in the waste,
Please, tie it tight with a steady hand,
And take it swiftly, to the land
Where refuse gathers, dark and deep,
Where secrets, like the trash, shall sleep.

I’ve seen the world in all its grime,
The bitter fate of love’s decline.
So hear me now, and mark this well:
Your blood and bone, do guard and quell.
Control what’s yours, don’t leave it loose,
Or face the folly of misuse.

Be sharp in small things, hold your ground,
Give nothing freely, nor by sound.
From kin, take flight — avoid the snare,
Trust no friend’s word, be shrewd, beware!
Keep every door locked firm and fast,
And guard your peace, and make it last.

Don’t let a chance of fatherhood
Catch up on you, misunderstood.
Stay clear of normal, keep your stride —
As if you're born where none abide,
A ghost, a shade, a waste, a lie,
And so you’ll live, and so you'll die.

"Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat te in vitam aeternam"

No lips, no thighs, no **** will tempt my fate,
When syphilis' contagious threat I see.
Henceforth, I'll gaze at stars and contemplate
religious love - so sacred, pure and free.

Within its light, I hope to find my plan,
Though its sharp wit I hardly can abide:
Since childhood we all love the same young man,
Ignoring gender's natural divide.

For Christ alone my heart shall truly race,
His love for all, a light that shines so bright.
No earthly love can ever match His grace,
His sterile touch, His guiding, healing light.

As if consumed by a supernova’s charmer,
We’re destined to embrace him clear and loud.
And live with him.

Thank God - it’s not Keith Starmer.

He’s in—I’m out.