.with rob zombie's: ***** liquor in the background,
a man perched on windowsill,
              one foot tapping along,
                                 the other foot folded
and sat on...

    come to think of it,
                 why am i not bothered,
   not bothered by the neighbours?
well, one ****** tried it,
complained about me smoking out
of my window,
   and that one time i was making a b.b.q.
and he said: 'you should have warned
us!'               the ****?
            all beause he had been doing
his washing and was drying his clothes
on a washing line, 20 metres from my b.b.q.,
and now they're moving house.

the english,
     they always want a house with a garden...
in the vicinity?
    you know how many times i've
seen the english use their gardens?
              roughly 5 times per year...
they rarely even attempt to switch
the garden to a ******* venture when
the one toilet is occupied by someone
taking a shower...
                      for all the wants of a garden,
i haven't seen anyone around here
take to planting a cherry tree,
            or burrying their cremated cat...
i guess i must be the odd one out...
            i mean: i'll integrate up to a point,
but then... well there's just me,
               rumours...
rumours...
      apparently donald tusk got
the job as the president of the european
council, because he mingled
   with frau kanzler
   over the position...
                     **** me...
        27 prime ministers,
    but only 1 chancellor...
                  who said the stereotype
of jews being good with money,
never made it to the stereotype of germans?
   the rumour is...
   he got the job...
       only because his father was
in the wehrmacht...
             after all, he did write
a bestseller book about the city of Danzig...
no surprise there,
  given that Danzig was reminiscent
of a city-state akin to Athens or Sparta...
mind you, better than any movie
on a friday night,
   tuning in on the 66th minute
of Liverpool vs. Southampton...
                waiting for the 1 - 1 draw...
but the genius of jürgen jürgen (klopp)
came through...
                     funny that,
people with funny surnames...
             dialect distinctions...
      klop in western slavic implies
the ******* - ide na klopa -
      i'm going to sit on a toilet...
            ****** must have been a funny surname
before its notorious prominence...
but rarely do you get to see 28 minutes
of a football match of this sort of quality...
    wolverhampton wanderers...
they're playing a very interesting piece
of football this season...
very portugese barzilian-esque...
      everybody knows that
        italian football is boring
  (too many passes),
   and german football is just too predictable...
but how the hell did Liverpool
come up with 2 goals in a period of 28 minutes...
mind-boggling...
       i'm always there for the sport per se,
i don't really feel inclined
to have a vested interest in the sport
as to pick a side,
               what once was
          religion, now becomes infused
in sports... seriously...
  count me out of this secular take
on religiosity...
            i'll pay my dues: were deserved
dues are due...
                   that's probably i much
prefer the olympics to this coming farce
of a world cup...
   how many footballers are going
to drop dead, from heat exhaustion?
we must thank our camel cockey bwovers
for cracking up the heat
          in air-conditioned stadiums...
once upon a time, the arabs had,
enviable traits...
   now? with all that wealth?
                                         take a guess;
if muhammad was raised from
the dead?
                     you'd see a forest
of pikes, on top would sit, decapitated heads
of his own people...
         but that's a wild idea,
perhaps even he, couldn't avoid
the temptation;
nonetheless, is it wrong to say that some
sports are over-represented?
   well, d'uh!
                 olympics comes,
and i always look forward to classical
wrestling matches,
    archery,
                             ha ha... ping-pong...
sure... none of the tennis allure...
  but it's a welcome break from
mainstream sports...
                                 and this whole
team religiosity influence...
                  that **** bores me to death...
clearly religion didn't die,
it just morphed...
                oh, really? it's that time of year?
the one time of the year
where i become a gambler?
   what? it's the quiche thing to do
in england, a bit like sipping
                 pimm's and eating eaton mess
at wimbledon...
       the grand national...
   betting on a horse...
                     and just to prove i'm no
gambler - why would i dream about
going to las vegas?
                   that shitshow of a town?
all the best strip-clubs in the world:
but no brothel.
      eh?!
                 tiger roll (7 to 2)
is attempting to make history,
     by clinging to: two years in a row...
i only have 4 quid to spend on the bet...
   so 2 horses...
               2 quid each...
                         hmm...
                      'further rain would help
him to step forward'
             i checked the weather forecast
(the grand national happens somewhere
south of liverpool, i think)
                     rainy...
overcast...     step back (25 to 1)...
                         now a compensation
horse...
                          i'll need a few more whiskies
before i make this blind bet lucky hope...

i'm not betting on tiger roll (7 to 2) -
the odds are not wildcard enough...

mind you, not being a gambling *****:
i do know that rolling tobacco
needs to be fresh,
   slightly moist, in order to roll it,
you can still roll the dry tobacco,
but then you'd also require
obc cigarette tubes,
         and one of those "gizmos" /
machines, to pull off
             a perfect match...
no in a millions years will you get
out a perfect rollie
with dry, pall mall tobacco...
when no golden virginia is available...
point: but you're also
not going to **** dry the filter
with dry tobacco...
harder to roll,
               but an easier smoke...

anyway...
   back to the grand national...
look, i'm no dustin hoffman
rainman hack...
         i felt like ******* away
4 quid's worth on an event, sue me...

   1             up for review (25 - 1)
         'could relish this test;
      must be a contender'

2a            folsom blue  (50 - 1)
          'mud-lover; stays well
   but at veteran stage'

2b           general principle (40 - 1)
     'best not ignore this irish
national winner'

3            ramses de telilee   (25 - 1)
             'welsh national second;
               stays well and improving'

4   ballyoptic    (28 - 1)
   'scottish national second;
                   cannot rule out'

  5a       mala beach (50 - 1)
               'fresh; could suit;
              a lively outsider'

    5b go conquer      (33 - 1)
         'bids to give his trainer
a third national'

      5c     lake view lad      (14 - 1)
             'improving steadily and
this trip should suit'

   5d jury duty    (16 - 1)
     'should relish this trip.
         could get a positive verdict'

6 vieux lion rouge             (33 - 1)
     'has tried three times in
this; fourth time lucky?'

   7       bless the wings                (66 - 1)
              'would be the oldest winner
       since 1853'

so...
      gambling, fascinating,
   how there's no objectivity argument,
and all the sort of superstitions associated
with it... a truly, magnanimous,
secular age...
   football as a religion,
   gambling on horses as the trials
of fate / luck / whatever belief...

       truly... gratifying...
   and i don't imply that in any pompous
sense, i'm about to invest 4 quid
in the whole affair!

   my pick?
              step back 25 to 1 odds
first choice...
   so it's either between
the mud-lover folsom blue... 50 to 1 odds,
ah... i'll need more wizard like
uncertainty when it comes
to gambling,
repeating to myself:
   there's no such thing as luck,
there's no such thing as luck,
gambling is only subjective,
gambling is the reiteration
of a religious experience,
        it's the sensible option,
it's the sensible option, ****...
i'll just split the 4 quid over 4 horses
rather than bet 2 quid on 2...

per quid:
                      step back
                      jury duty
                      up for review
                      go conquer / folsom blue

****...
                   no wonder i never got
into gambling...
         i never fathomed the aspect
of winning
as much as i never fathomed
the aspect of losing,
   or how they're paired up
     and consecrated on the same
altar of, "thrill"...

    that cut               /
betweeen
       go conquer  and folsom blue...

horses have the oddest names...
          dogs?
                 probably the shittest names
in the whole of the kingdom...
oscar darshan...
                            quorus...
these being cat names...
                                           go figure.

Phantasmagoric


Entranced through the spirals of delusion
Limitless misery trapped betweeen the perfect illusion

Shattered visions trickle along a joyous dream
******* of deep waters biting through the atlantic sea bream

Whispering in the midst of silken white fantasies
Swiftly stricken back into the disturbing realities

Prismatic colors embedded into a spirit of misconception
A darkened certainty embraces its profound deception

Peaceful pleasures circling whimsical euphoria
Drastically transforming into agitated hysteria

Reflecting portraits of tasteful affection
Briskly dissolving into appalling fabrication

Stimulating my mind with exceptional optimism
The day I met you heartbreak obstructed essential wisdom


MEGAN JAMES
(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED)

Livin' a lie
this life might as well be a crime
cuzz my career is based on the money i'll be making
instead of the joy i'll be faking
                perhaps i'm crazy
                according to you, i'm lazy
and who am i supposed to believe
              betweeen
my lova                  and his brotha

laying on the bathroom floor
starring underneath the door
you want your credit? well here you'll get it!
I'll etch your name right into my arm
and you''ll blame it on your alarm

are you what.
((i think you are)?



             the body).


i think
you are
(which is
just slightly rotund

just

easily weak.

fit betweeen
your years)

long and
barely skinny

of arms. O

and you are

what
(i think)
you are?what?

(you are the rushing
keenly that joins
vein and soul; singing
)
You are.
and what
you are

is

vertically serene wonderfully pleasant

falling.

betweeen am and should there is
a wall whose bricks are acetylcholine or
serotonin or the lack thereof and i
am on the wrong side of it and
wish i had a ladder but the hardware
stores are all on the other side

my heart aches for you while i wait
for you ive been wishing for a day or two just to
be with you and my heart smiles and my eyes
shine because ive been wishing for a day or two just to be
with you and i dont have to wish because you're
mine and i stopped wishing and stopped dreaming because my
dreams were all coming true i wanted to spend my life with you
always- and i still do and we're still spending and its not ending and i think you
love me too and you're still mine and your eyes shine as your heart smiles as it
entertwines with mine like these lines end betweeen the lines to express what i guess i'm
trying to say is i love you and you love me and i cant believe it but i finally believe that
im awake and one day youll wake up next to me and see- and you'll remember that day i said -i need a ring

Most days I survive
But it would be unkind
And sort of rude
If I did not take a day
Or a night here and there
Just to grieve
For the heart
Ripped from my chest
And the soul
****** from betweeen my toes
They were mine
And they were stolen
A blessing in a way
But still my nerves
Are frayed and split
And send messages to a brain
Overloaded with drugs
And fill with pain
So tonight a grieve
One candle lit
And one sleeve barred
Goodnight I say
Goodnight you sleep
But you will rest
While my skin weeps

Keep it safe ,as it's delicate,
handle carefully .
once broken
cant be refixed gracefully
once slipped from those tiny finger tips
gone forever .
To regain with all its charm just like
'a beautiful dream that's quite impossible'
Its between us,
its betweeen them,
its betweeen everyone.
Once broken,
liaison reverses to no normal.
Chances still exist,
but selfdom doesnt let

Divorce


this time
was
its your side im gonna take
dont you worry mat
Im here for you unconditionally
i know you loved her
right until the bitter end
]right until your dignity was stretched out
over hot coals
over diamand like a fool
like an utter ****
you interoreted all of those negative sigals
all thise silent nigths in
avoivind the future
avoidung anythign
anythignthat might comr too close to the truth
the crippling trouch
that this time
in all the hundreds of milions of times
that this **** goes doewn
with romance]
and excitedment
and everything that for a bruief moment justifies alll yhr fuckign ****
that neurosis
the moments of utter indifference
when th difference betweeen crossing th road safely
and intentuionally hurling yourslef between the wheen of an oncoming lorry
grinding up the bones
tintoa insensate human patty
the reason you syou do the right thing
the sane thing
is fleeting moments like these were for a momnt at a time
we can acsend beyond the ordinary constrainsts ot every fuckign thing
and once that was you. Yuo were the thing that gave meaning to the shallow dochotoy between work and friend
. everyone wants something from you
sobut you stood apart from the din
the unholly din
of the forces pulling in operate directions

Sand in between the toes
Mystical moon
Trails of stars
Moonbeams glistening with a soft glow
A collision of one
A grounded pure connection
A pure breath to your core, your center
You found yourself,
The sand in betweeen your toes

Wings are furled
no hope of flying
deep inside
somethings dying
losing hope
of soaring high
maybe I broke
before reaching the sky
something releases
it was not foreseen
even puzzle pieces
have cracks in betweeen

HOW GRANNY MET GRANDA

She bored of being
bored: suddenly a
man with two-tone tan shoes

the proverbial
butterflies in the tum
"Yum!" she smirks "Yum...yum!"

she undid the top two
buttons of her blue blouse
such dangerous décolletage

the two-tone tan man
crossed one leg over
then the other then: back again

oooops she
spilled her gin
down her cleavage

he, she saw
couldn't help
but see

"Silly silly old..."
she scolds herself
"...clever me!"

he takes out
an initialed silk handkerchief
dabs betweeen her *******

both of their minds
thinking only of the one thing
"Sin!"