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Today former doctor John Becker was loving his life with Chris Connor even if they weren’t married or had kids but they always were very friendly with each other but one day John was getting voices in his head from all the people he yelled at when he was a doctor and John wanted to quit his job and go around the USA to escape his voices but Chris told him that if he did that he would regret it but John wasn’t wanting to listen to her because his head was going crazy
And later that day Reggie rang John saying that bob visited her saying he was happy about being at the hockey with him and hearing that made Reggie mad and she was yelling at John on the phone making John worried about where his life was heading hearing fake voices and getting old friends ringing him up upset with him and this made John want to visit his blind best friend jake in his new home in baltimore but when he rang him up jake said he was married with 2 kids and they know nothing about his old life and that is how Jake wanted to keep it.
John got very angry with jake saying I helped you a lot back in the early 2000s late 1990s and jake said yeah I know but you don’t understand this woman doesn’t understand anyone describing the people I was with back then and John said, come on give me a break I helped you now you can help me and jake said ok come to Baltimore but this isn’t a way to turn back the clock and John said goodbye and hung up the phone and said to Chris that he is going to Baltimore to visit jake and Chris started to get upset saying you just want to turn back the clock to back in Those days and John said I am hearing voices and I need to clear my head and Chris said how about I come with you it would be great to catch up and John said fine I guess and suddenly John planned to quit his job at the doctors office leaving Margaret and Linda who are still working there very much in dismay but after thinking about it Linda wanted to retire anyway and move to Los Angeles to meet a former boyfriend and Margaret was starting to feel lonely despite John not leaving yet because with Lewis dead she felt depressed and asked John and Chris if she can join their road trip much to Johns dismay but after saying no in usual John becker fashion he finally gave in and said I will pick you up tomorrow at 7 am and Chris said Margaret is lonely and depressed and could be too depressed for us but John said, she has been working for me for a long time now and she lost her husband and besides it would be good for Jake to see the old gang again and Chris went into the diner to ask hector if it will be alright if they close the diner or sell the diner and hector said well I was looking for somewhere to go in the future but why now and Chris said me and John and Margaret are going to visit Jake and his kids and hector said Jake has kids now, I would like to see him even if he can’t see me and Chris said maybe just let me John and Margaret go because you know johns car and hector said I will fly there where does he live and Chris said ‘Baltimore’ and hector I was always wanting to go there, so let’s go and I would like to see how the blind father is going anyway and when Chris told John that hector is going to fly there John did his usual Becker rage but after that he said ok as long as he doesn’t want a lift and John was suddenly hearing the voice of the journalist in the diner who accused him for being racist and he said ok let’s go to Baltimore and when they got to Baltimore after nearly crashing into a few cars who flipped him off they made it to Jakes house and Kylie who was 6 and Samuel who was 4 answered the door and Samuel said hi are you the angry man and after hearing that John was hearing the voice of Sandra who wrote that book referring him to the angry man and then Jake came in and said hi john
It has been a long time and then he heard Chris and margaret’s voices and said I didn’t expect a reunion and John said Chris is my friend, we live together and Margaret lost Lewis 2 years ago and hector is coming here soon by plane and Jake introduced his wife to his old friends and he said
Judy, this is my friends from the past and Judy said, hi Jake has told us so much about you, in that I say he told us nothing about you and Jake said there is one more coming by plane but it is good to have a reunion and Judy said maybe for you but not for me and John remembered his first dinner party with the gang when Chris and him first met and after that hector turned up and said, it is a pleasure to see you Jake unfortunately you can’t see me and Judy Samuel and Kylie went off to bed and Judy said I hope you guys have accomodation because this house is too small and John said I used to sleep on the couch in front of the tv
So I am fine but Judy said no find other accomodation and see you tomorrow or tonight for dinner, Jake said and at the end John and Chris were talking to each other loving seeing Jake and his new family for the first time and Margaret and hector were depressed together
Margaret because she misses Lewis
And I have no idea why hector is depressed but he wasn’t having *** so that could be the reason
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2020
belgravia on itv... and the world is filled with...
odes to charlemagne -
or rather: the emperor has risen...
in the form of a bonaparte...

       i lost my virginity to a french girl
from Grenoble - a one ms. psychologist
Isa-bel-l'ah...

              and i had three pictures hanging
in my student accomodation overlooking
the salisbury crags...
           one i put my amp on the windowsill
and did a rendition of...
                            something from the movie
crow / last days...

there was plato... there was the marquis de sade...
and then there was napoleon...

i was immediately reminded...
but napoleon did x y and z...
       i could swear the zeitgeist for us begins
with the end of the 2nd world war?
well: i lost my virginity... didn't i?
          
             and come to think of...
there is the trafalgar sq. in London...
      and there's the monument when it came
to Austerlitz victory...

           napoleon and that old bias...
for all those that encompassed in the duchy of warsaw...
or from under the partition
shared between the prussian the russian
and the austro-hungarian empire...

a short-lived affair... but...
        she minded napoleon but not marquis de sade...
come forward 200 years...
what are the monuments of the 2nd world war?
what are the... ******* monuments of the 1st world
war?
the cemeteries at Ypres for western europe...
the death camp memorials
   and the little ghetto lockets of memory and:
gypsy good fortune in the east?

a picture of the mushroom eating
and clinging onto the flesh of men and animals
in a symbiosis and mind-control dynamics
of the fungus keeping the host alive...
unlike a virus?

   where are the monuments for all that was
achieved in the two wars?
where's the trafalgar sq. where's the arc de triomphe?
between 1803–1815
   or between 1939–1945... well...
              12 years is not 6...
                  i guess you can't achieve much of any
sort of "meaningful" war if...
there's not a decade included in the mix...

oh i'm sure it's going to be hard to imagine
the führer as the kaiser...
     because: dressed in khaki like a whittle
hanzel schoolboy when all the big boys
started to wear schwarzgekleidet of zee SS...

from a perspective of history...
                             i am unsure as to why...
this ms. psychology major would grieve
the affairs of napoleon...
                             perhaps if he was a bit taller...
she might have a fancy for him...
then again... as kaiser... as emperor...
come to think of it...
the notation: Frank would included
the swiss... the belgians the dutch...
luxembourg...
       but not those rascals...
in the rhineland-palatinate...
            or north-rhine-westphalia...

schubert symphony no. 4 in c-minor, D. 417...
i always thought that schubert...
was the pianist competing with violins
to tackle shumann... never mind...

     then again: illuminating life of those
that still have a toe in the remaining posit
of life... yet 3/4 of what life is willing to offer
has both feet in the coffin and a last nail
to beg for the closure and funeral procession
of that chapter of human details
to be: ascribed to the realms of solely learning...
about it... there's no great-grandma with
her wheelbarrow of memories to grant
you "perspectives"...

he was a führer... but not the kaiser...
come to think of it...
the rise and fall... from the confines of being
rejected from an art-college...

today one of my cats (i only have two)
accidently burned the hairs of her tail
when she signatured it (the tail) across
a burning candle... and... you wouldn't believe it...
the smell of burnt cat furr...
i can imagine escaping my episodes of
solipsism when venturing into sniffing
someone else's farts to be more appealing...
than the smell of... the burning of cat furr...

i did remark... i don't think it was all that
pleasant working as butchers in those concentration
camps... if the burning of cat furr smells so bad...
if the burning of skin, nails...
bones... i'm starting to think it was a hell-hole
for both the camp "workers" and....
those about to be forced on the altar
of the belly of Moloch...

                          and when the hebrew god
conquered the gods of the philistines
and the caanites...
      did he "fall asleep"...
    thinking they wouldn't somehow use
people that wouldn't otherwise pay direct
homage to them... for their devilish enterprises?

where are the monumets from world
war I or world II that aren't cemeteries
or memorials or the death camps themselves?
there's not point merely seeing...
imagine going to Handel's messiah
at the royal albert hall...
           and only seeing an orchestra play...
most associated with seeing are:
the quality of either inanimate objects
or moving objects...
but there isn't a mention of the sounds locked
in brimfuls in these things...
but most importantly... i can't smell that
death circus...
well... no matter... i don't need to visit those
death camps and pay some spezial ode to
memory: it will just take a cat accidently burn
its tail furr brushing it over a candle...
that's enough... thank you...

           i don't need to see those camps...
not out of denial outright...
but... without the scent of burning hair
and flesh... the infamous cracow's winter
snow of cremations...

but the smell is missing...
i don't need to visit these places
for a picture of unused hammers and nails...
in their pristine gothica of still slippery when
kept in a mummified state of being
oiled for use... i don't like to rumminate in
echoes of: what this oven was used for...
the scent has subsided like a tide
and all that's exposed is never the living
proof... i have archeological proof...
that it is so sudden... doesn't matter...
i don't have the "perfume" to riddle me
with an immediacy of a recoil!
for that? i just need a cat to accidently burn
a few hairs of its tail over a candle...

it's one of those needle injections straight
into the nostrils...
seeing the oven will do very little to give
an expanse of my: sisyphean weight to tow
along...

faster than the speed of light:
or the digestion imprint of a photograph...
faster than the speed of sound...

    ssssssssssssssssssssscent...
          i don't need to see what other people decided
to want and see...
the burning of flesh and most notably unwashed
hair and furr...
       that's plenty...
i don't want to discourage myself from
cooking anything else in the future...

sometimes my room becomes a hotel for
either moths or flies...
i currently have an early waker...
she must be nearing being a year old...
you can tell... her flight is more methodological...
it isn't that usual flurry and all
that excited presence of itself: unique
in a bounty of life...
i will not bother this fly...
        if she was a mosquito... perhaps i would...

i am longing to see the spawn "maggots"
of moths eat and curl up in cotton...

where are the monuments to call it:
the end of world war I and world war II...
it's as if... it has to be shamed...
this whole genesis story from half-way
between the past century...
and into this... swamp-en-masse...

          last time i checked... that "something"
between the serbians and the croats
and the muslims of yugoslavia...
                    the 13th waffen mountain division...
or head east... the ukranian infamous
insurgent army...
        only recently i heard some major
****-wits decided to drill holes into the tires
of ambulances... near bristol...

as a perfectly just cold blooded heart...
is the crucifixion the epitome of a demigod's death?
what about... being spiked?
being forced onto a pike via
the architecture of where the intestines
meet the coccyx... the *******...
the ****... and the pelvis?
with hands tied?
what about hanging off a meat-hook...
with the meat-hook making the incission under the jaw?
hands and legs tied?

the crucifixion is just an out-dated symbol
of sacrifice... no wonder all that came after
had to become so... more... adventurous...
wouldn't we be foolish when it came to slacking
on the chapter of torture?

but at least one aspect of life can be still felt
to be pure, "aryan"... un-disturbed...
pain... is so un-interrupted by competing
subjectivities... that... well...
it's almost akin to cross paths with god...
pain is pure in that it is true...
forever: there's that other great democratic force
at work than mere death...
by the time we're through death is but
a bureucratic notation of a statistic:
a near miss of anonymity...

                there's that great leveller of pain...
from a simple toothache...
it's as if an ****** that comes on the wings of
being... a sedative of consciousness...
pain as that...
   pain is an inoculate agent against reality...
against consciousness...
all for that ****** of dreams...
lucky for me... i don't dream so well...
i forrest gump the whole affair...

some would think pain as a defining moment
an event horizon for their numb-skulled
crossword puzzle zeniths of "life"...
     i see pain more in favour of...
      i want to be cured from having to curate
so many mediocrities of this life:
as served and as service for others...
so dilligent at being busy-bodies in the shelter
of hierarchies and the shadows of:
the impossible perfection of mountain
replicas of Giza...

pain is illumination...
    beginning with a toothache...
once this temp. filling is ready to be scrubbed out...
and a root canal is to be fitted...
i think i'll begin with an oyster-esque "typo"
readying myself for an ******
when asked 'would you like an anaesthetic'
and the reply will be... 'no'...
                 clearly i don't have as many
avenues as are readily available
when it comes to a holy trinity of mouth,
******... *******...

      self-serving pleasures of the extensions
of pinching... by either crap pincers
or the cold of virus simulation of crowns
when having an ice-cube placed into my palm...

in that i am wholly sympathetic to pain...
well... what good did reading walter benjamin's
illumination(s) essay do to me...
beside what i already know about...
the difference between collecting books...
and collecting books and reading them...

              my personal library would shrink somewhat...
given that i own pretty much an assortment
of what has already been read:
i'm not my grandmother:
unlike watching a film... i can't re-read a book...
give me 2 years reading one...
but i will not re-read it!

this extension of a mollusk's zenith via
a ******... of all that's the sensation that rhymes
heart with brain...

         tow the bones...
       tow the bones...
                   come to the horizon where
the soft tissue blitzkriegs past the bone to the marrow...

arable lure of the prosthetic ghost, limb...
and limp...
       soft zenith pleasure...
while at the same time...
entertaining "things" that only secular
sensibility measures can instill...
do not cross paths with mythology:
goodness! you might forget being
snarky and insensible come tomorrow's year
monday when journalism catches
up from... "somehow" being detached
from her de facto and carpe diem
mantras of modus operandi!

i might call it: the moth's seal of the lips...
enough to lick a postage stamp...
hardly enough to actually kiss...

sold: christianity: metaphorical cannibalism...
i would rather taste the real thing...
if ever such an opportunity should
give sway...

       a führer is not a kaiser... back in the day...
there was respect in post-napoleonic war London...
in belgravia...
how did the h'american white house originate...
the Belveder of Warsaw...
vermin, peoples of the world: nibble...

                   i'm here to claim my future:
my anonymity... i'm here to scatter with the dues
of the frail... waiting for no clarity of
locked: stature worded in baron...
no stature worded in kaiser... führer...
      i am on the sole minding of... the gnostics...
the heretics...

i want to burn blue when all other dogmatic
breaths burn yellow...
           that i drink is of no solace...
bribe the reader! inner vacuum otherwise
a handshake with my shadow... by candlelight...
which is a bribe for an audience of death:
that personification on a theme of romance...
thanatos... chilling the spine...
and the serpentine...

                    i want to see the gallows...
and allure of seeing ***** and rot come oozing
from their baptised fleshy bits...
i want to be curator of the last abolished screech
of existence... i wand to hush them...
by sharpening a knife...
i want to find the idle fork...
i want to find the crown of ferns...
and kick and stab... the house of already dead
roman emperors... sitting... nay...
loitering... the anger of pride on their
laurels...

             napoleon... even with a name like that...
you can stomach the usual: steak becoming
a lump of minced beef...
but when it's ****** or stalin...
czopek or elert...
                    you'd wish for a horsehoof
to be dubbed: smith...
                     -smithy...
or some other... lucky you: frauman...
                      fregel...            made it up as
we went along...

yep... yep... i get it... drinks a whiskey...
****** out a lemonade...
and for whatever "genius": genius...
that third tier of being... not spawned by the gods...
but by man... in between angels and demons...
the geniuses...
that autistic master-class of...
****'s itching kinda eerie!

   i'm drunk: most of the people are sober...
i'm not going to have to
give an apologetics lecture on the sober
sods... am i?
romance period... a bit like being
a modern brit and all that wham!
sputnik dazzle of the: grit brighton!

jokes aside... the winged hussar...
                   also mongol...
******* that clad themselves in dog ****
to imitate... what would later become...
the 365 harem of an alexander...
          
   would it be any good reading
the greeks?
     can you really want to "catch-up" on so
much... when in fact you should be
reading the people who have re(a)d...
the ancient greeks?

here's me taking heidegger's advice...
spend 12 years reading aristotle...
          martin... oi oi... that leaves
me doing more work than the already
work required in pretending to be catholic...
and doing a spin-off sunday...
how about me just reads up on yous...
how's that?
2 years worth of you... is about...
       whatever it took you to "master"
aristoteles: ah-chew: chow-mein sucker...

     life is or at least has become or will
become... too impertinent...
  then again... lassitudes of being kept
in the confines of one's own allowances...
i can't expect... in the same way...
i can't become expectent...
it's a two-way-swoe-order in the guise
of a phoenix... (missing phenotypes)...

             the best held advent of:
if you weren't a part of pappa's genocide of
a clarifying sputnik's *****-out
into frog's dream-alike all mammalian
when you're already on your way out
with the moloch altar sacrifice of
no foetus would be born...

call it a... champagne bottle uncorking
ritual when it comes to...
and all that other drifting ritual
of "entropy" whenever a sobering / ***
note would awake a hannibal lecturer
for and what more...
that was necessary...

           stipends of: gotcha...
eagles - witchy woman...
ol' cliff does a little number:
like no intro for a jazz megahit
quintet when the bass comes along...
devil woman...
or the totally camp...
  dale winton...
because turning totally gay only
arrived in full bloom and daffodils
in the trenches...
when true gay arrived...
well... any other hole to fill...

              this hole's better than
any ****** eye's...
who's that backdoor man of
assorted gifts, to begin with?

          rhyme rhymes rhyme rhymes...
easily to make a happy than no
alcoholic into a: no thank you...
  
                                   discretely...
suburban... those desperado... casa-esposa...
the pride of the son: a mother...
that's usually enforced...

las orgullo de hijo: una madre...
           bad spanish... bad german...
mongrel of the either and some anglican
and some ****** catholic...

                                        if there was still something
of a worthwhile partition of time...
****** was never going to become
the next napoleon...
even though... invading russia was
a plagiarism... and the retrdo-event of all
that waste of time... 200 years
and the waste of time with the air onslought
for the battle of britain...
the u-boats...

     no mention of waiting a while...
     in that "what if" universe of revising...
one two three four... with:
einz zwei drei vier...

or... the eager panzermensch...
and that tunnel under the sea...
         it can be noted that a 100 year war
did exist... between the english and the french...

if the napoleonic wars have the monuments...
for what sort of reasons were
the 20th century "ende von alles kriege ende"...
******* proxies of the yugoslav conflict...
vietnam...
        
the monuments of the greatest wars of man...
monumets? cemeteries... or the death camps...
was this the turning point where...
death by war was to be... lessened by
omittance: "keep calm and carry on" *******?
the celebrated en masse of one single
male *******?

how isn't citing german...
an exfoliation from speaking mere peasant
english?
der zunge ist berufung die gegenwart:
ein vater: ein vaterzunge!

scheisse und höllegrube mit es!
                der "vaterland": fathers of daughters
of would be mothers... mothers of sons
of would be fathers... motherland... fatherland...
mothertongue... a ******* great big itch
of grammatical concerns! blah!

where are these monuments akin to trafalgar sq.?!
what's to be so... gloated... about defeating the nazis?
where is the gloat in mere words...
but sorely missed when it comes to sacrificing
bone and marrow and muscle
to focus on making escapades of marble?!
where... are... these... monuments?!

      my own shadow overshadows the testimonies
of... two... very... minor... wars...
perhaps world war I had covered one or two
hurt prides... hurt egos...
but... after all... a khaki attired boyscout...
when all the bad boys
were later... morphed by hugo boss
into schwarzgekleidet steinherzimmobilien...

ein führer ist nein (ein) kaiser...
not like the title napoleon acquired...
napoleon was cited as: emperor...
        a reicarnation of charlemagne...
   too bad for whoever barbarossa was...
  rutger hauer?! yes... but rutger was, dutch...
for ****'s sake!

napoleon was crowned emperor
in a church...
****** walked into an opera house...
heard some wagner...
some wagner not in that anemic proposal
of the walhall from das rheingold
via michele campanella...

              all that becomes the litany...
prior to the peeling to the basic grammar...
and then an attack on pronouns...
as if all languages had...
gender-neutral nouns of the anglican-sphere
of "talk"...

strip me down the the Diogenes' basics of
sodden cloth and dogs' **** to attire...
perhaps i'll show you Cleopatra smile...
or Mona Lisa frown...
             whatever might be the eventuality...
this is not it; nor could it ever be... "it";
the "it" of what you seek.
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY


THIS WEEKEND I AM HAVING A BREAK FROM MY BROTHER, MUM AND DAD

AND WENT CAMPING IN THE MICHELAGO FARM HOUSE, TO GET MEDALS

IN THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH AWARD SCHEME, YA SEE, MUM WAS WORKING

SO DAD TOOK ME SHOPPING TO GET LAST MINUTE SUPPLIES AND THE NEXT DAY

WE HEADED OFF TO MARIST TO BOARD THE TRUCK, AND PAUL GRAHAM

WHO I THOUGHT WAS A REAL COOL DUDE, SANG ALL THESE GREAT SONGS

LIKE EYE OF THE TIGER, COURT OF KING CARACTULOUS, AND MANY MORE

AND WE ARRIVED, AND THERE WERE NO BEDS, JUST HARD FLOORS, THIS ISN’T ACCOMODATION

THIS IS UNCOMFORTABLE, WE COOLED BACON AND EGGS, BRAISED STEAK AND ONIONS

AND I ATE A SPACE FOOD STICK, AND JENNIFER JONES SAID, THAT IS MY SPACE FOOD

STICK, AND I SAID, NO THIS IS MINE, I IGNORED HER AND WENT TO TALK TO BRENDAN AND LANCE

CAUSE, THEY UNDERSTAND WOMENS PROBLEMS

YA SEE WE DID CANOEING AND HIKING WITH OUR BACKPACKS ON, AND ALSO, IN THE

MIDDLE OF A GREAT NICE COUNTRY DAY, THEN I CRACKED JOKES WITH SOME OF THE GIRLS THERE

AND STEVEN SANG EYE OF THE BULL FROG, AND I WONDERED, ALSO OTHER WEEKENDS, WE AS THE SENIOR MEMBERS

OF THE DUKE OF EDINBUIRGH, WE HAD TO LOOK AFTER THE JUNIOR MEMBERS OF THE AWARD SCHEME

AND THIS WAS A MORE COMFORTABLE SEATS, THIS WAS COMMUNITY SERVICE, WE ALSO DID MEALS ON WHEELS,

YA KNOW GIVING MEALS TO THE ELDERLY, WHO CAN NO LONGER FEND FOR THEMSELVES

THE MOST POPULAR PLACE WAS HALL VILLAGE,

AND I REMEMBER THE TEACHERS MAKING ME KISS RICHARD, BUT I WASN’T THINKING OF GAY ACTITIVTY

YA KNOW, JUST TEASING HIM, BUT I WAS SAYING, I AM AN ADULT, IN THIS SITUATION

YA SEE THE MANY BUSH WALKS AS A KID, GAVE ME A SENSE OF ADVENTURE

AND ALSO, GAVE ME THE CHANCE TO HELP PEOPLE IN ANY WAY THEY SEE FIT

IT GAVE ME THE FEELING OF DOING THINGS FOR MY FELLOW HUMANS

I HIKED UP THE SNOWY IN THONGS, I WENT TO WELLINGTON CAVES

YEAH, I AND MY TWO MATES, BRENDAN AND LANCE WERE LIVING DANGEROUSLY

BY NOT WEARING A LIFE JACKET, WE’LL PUT IT ON LATER WE WOULD SAY

BROTHER KEVIN BRENDAN, LANCE, WHY HASN’T BRIAN GOT A LIFE JACKET ON

YA KNOW THE FUCKEN RULES, AND WE ALL HAD A WOW OF A TIME

AND SANG SONGS ON THE WAY BACK, WHAT ABOUT ME, EYE OF THE TIGER

AND MANY MANY MORE, AND WHEN WE GOT BACK TO THE SCHOOL, ONE GUYS PARENTS

WEREN’T THERE, AND MY PARENTS OFFERED A ROOM FOR THE NIGHT

BUT HE DECLINED IT, IMPLYING, I DON’T WANT TO GO TO MY HOUSE

I IMPLIED, WHY NOT, YOU NEED SHELTER, I GOT SHELTER

HE SAID, WELL, NO, I WILL JUST WAIT, TILL THEY ARRIVE

SO I WENT HOME WITH MY PARENTS, DAD SAID THE RAIDERS WON, IT MADE ME HAPPY

AND I WENT HOME AND TOLD MY BROTHER AND DAD AND MUM ALL ABOUT

MY WONDERFUL DUKE OF EDINBURGH AWARD SCHEME EXPERIENCE, THIS IS COOL, MAN EAT MY SHORTS

AND THE ALLAN’S CRACKED JOKES, I SAID AND HE, MUM THOUGHT HE MEANT ANDY

BUT THERE WAS NO PHONE CALL, SO THE ALLAN’S ALL RETIRED TO THEIR ROOM

MUM AND I WENT TO BED, CAUSE IT WAS A BIG WEEKEND, BUT THE NEXT

DAY, I WAS PARADING AROUND THE SCHOOL,
One day there was a man named William who had schitzophrenia and autism and
He lived with his parents John and flur and growing up William was being bullied in an unusual way like it looked as though they were taking the fun out of his life and William really wanted to put of his mistakes behind him and live safely with his mum and dad but as William went out people tried to rob him
Which made William upset saying these thugs stole my holiday money because I want to go on holidays but I can't pass these cowardly thugs but
As he got home his mum cooked a nice chicken stir fry
And William was thinking this is nice having him and his two parents enjoying a meal together and then William walked down to his room to watch FOXTEL to make him feel better because he wanted kids of his own but instead he had his mum and dad who were very nice to him and these thugs at the mall who yelled at him if he didn't give him any cash because William was saving for a holiday and he had no idea of where he wanted to go but he wanted to save money and as people asked him for cash and took offence when they didn't get any William said why don't people want me to go on a holiday and when he explained this to his mum and dad they said just learn to relax because I am sure
Nobody really thinks that but William was really upset and sometimes he would accidentally hit the people he loved because of what went on at the mall and William knew his parents loved him but you see he wanted to save money for a great holiday so he could have fun and meet some new people
But William didn't work unless it was volunteer work but he had the pension which gave him enough holiday money to really enjoy himself somewhere and have enough money for accomodation and souvenirs and food but it was taking a while to save the holiday money
And he thought he was being bullied out of enjoying the high life because with just the pension it is hard to live the high life and when someone robbed him William would say
Why do you want to steal my holiday money, don't you think I deserve a flaming holiday ya know get away from **** like you and then they reached into his back pocket and stole $10-00 and William said give me back my holiday money you filthy coward and then they got out a pocket knife and held it to Williams neck and said I am going to steal this money and the next money and every time we meet heee you will give me money and if that is your holiday money, well that is your problem isn't it and William said
I ain't going to give you money
Especially my holiday money
I want to go on a holiday and
William's parents were really upset and tried to say you must try and get him out of your life
Because if you want to go on holidays get away from ****
And william said I can't say no
Because he is tough and he will bash me up and i had fun at school, I want out of this tricky situation but watta we gonna do
And Williams parents both said we need to feed him and help him get away from **** like them even if it is hard to do that
And every time William saw these people he tried to hide because really being a school bully is one thing but stealing holiday money off a vonerable man is uncalled for and William became fitter and fitter as he was trying to get away from voices of his bullies and he yelled out stop trying to get my holiday money leave me alone
And his parents made sure they were always home when he got home and his dad retired early to make sure he was there for William and this was a way for William to rid his head from these horrible voices
He just wants to go on holidays
Sk Abdul Aziz Nov 2015
My name is Philip Brooks.I am a reporter and i work for a small news agency in London.I had once to gone to Syria to cover a story.As soon as i landed there i got the sense that i had stepped into dangerous waters.
I felt like i was going to be constantly scrutinised here.I teamed up there with a local journalist named Ahmed.He arranged an accomodation for me which was pretty close to where he lived.I was totally famished that day.So i skipped dinner and just threw myself on the bed.

The next morning Ahmed picked me up at around 8:00.We were supposed to interview this tribal warlord regarding a high-profile ******.We travelled for about an hour and then entered this dingy lane.When we entered his territory i was petrified.There were innumerable gunmen stationed all across.Ahmed told them that we were 'Sahafis'
which means reporters.They let us in.We then entered the warlord's chamber.His face was ugly and horrific to look at.It was covered with scars.Ahmed started conversing with him in their native language.I too had some questions which Ahmed translated and asked him for me.He got agitated but gave the answers.This was all going well when we heard some firing outside.We ran out and out of nowhere a bullet hit Ahmed on the head and he died instantly.I was now staring death in the face.I started running helter skelter.I somehow managed to get to the main road.I saw a woman there and told her what happenned.Luckily she understood English.She had a motorcycle.We sat on it and rode off.

We reached my place.I came to know that she too is a journalist and had been covering this story for a while now.Her name was Nadia.She too had lost a colleague who was covering this story.She had those deep mysterious eyes and apple red lips.She was a bit dimunitive in stature but seemed pretty strong.She had a strong perfume on her the smell of which was hard to forget.She also told me that some big names were involved in the ****** and that i should go away if i wanted to live.But i asked her to help in this investigation.After much deliberation she agreed.

The next day we went to a Minister's office and started our investigation.The next day we met up with a retired police chief.We got some more information from there.Gradually the more time we began to spend together,the more closer we got and before we knew it i was madly in love with her.My work in Syria was almost over now.One night after our work we went to her place.She took me to her bedroom and we made passionate love.

The next morning when i woke up i could'nt find her.I searched the entire house.I then saw a hand-written note on the bed.The note read-"Dear Philip i know that over the past month or so we've gotten very close to each other.You have feelings for me and i can't say that i don't.Truth is you are not safe with me and i wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything ever happened to you.So please go away from here...back to your country where you will be safe.Please don't look for me.Don't worry your love will keep me safe.".....♥Nadia(the heart can't always have it's way.)

I was left speechless.I tried to find her many times after that but all in vain.Finally the day arrived when i had to leave.I had an evening flight.I reached barely in time.As i was about to enter the airport i saw Nadia.She had come to say goodbye.Tears streamed down face..i had never felt such a strong connection with anyone ever before.She consoled me and said that she would come to London.I gathered myself back and kissed her.Then as she started to walk away from me and the distance between us grew...**i knew i'd never see her again but i also knew that i'd never forget her
This story is inspired from the movie 'Deadlines.'
Amy Oct 2018
There is this Girl-
A Beautiful Kalonous Creature if you ask me.
There is this Girl-
It's such a pity she can't see her self-worth except through me.
Wallows in the deceitful lies
That people seem to find joy in showering her with.
From :"You are ugly!"
When she doesn't conform to your EXPECTATIONS!
To "You are worthless!"
When she chooses not to adhere to your
SPECULATIONS!
Men lust for her
But all she really wants is LOVE,
Not Infatuation
Not Intoleration
But complete and utter
Relation
Accomodation
Compatability
and Trust.
Praise yourself Baby Girl
You need no man to tell you you are Beautiful.
Be Egotistical at times if it protects YOU.
YOU are all that Matters!
YOU are all you Have!
YOU are all there is!

There is this Girl that i call Hermoso



                             xoBlaxkQuin
Sirenes Nov 2017
the severing of ties
that's what it was called
but they never faded
never vanished
and never made way
for anything else.

there was the pen
to be followed
as you moved it
before my eyes
and the words to remember
of a language
I would never come to perfect.

there were tests and games
I tracked you down
and sat by the tree.
drew hearts around your shoe tracks.
there were issues and wagers.
and nothing ever changed.
my heart always smiled at you.

and you asked yourself
who was the love of my life?
it has always been you.
and him
and her
and them.
now who is the love of your life?

I swallowed the sings of you
the traces, the links, the connection.
and humored you
by calling it accomodation
instead of stealing.
and you laughed
so I guess I'm off the hook.
Ryan O'Leary Dec 2021
Marriage is an accomodation
for promises and com-promise.
In mixed cultural arrangements
one or both partners will always
be expatriated and at some stage
this can actually lead to separation.
With this ring till death do us part
in sickness and health is an illusion,
because we forget our agreements.

— The End —