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(Co-written with my awesome friend)

The thought is savory
But I know it won't put you in dismay
Triangular in shape, but it needs not to be a worry
As I can just imagine eating it all day

I am gobsmacked by this medley of tomato sauce and stringy cheese
Blimey! How dare you gobble this thing up and not share
Oh, for a slice I'd get down on my knees
A world without pizza wouldn't be so fair
Made with @Patweeek on Twitter! Writing this was a spur-of-the moment decision.
a reflection, mirroring of last week

and we guess there will be much if it after

this time of soft living, little moving nor travelling

blimey


now we glitch with so much using

too much storage not to mention

my coaches


blimey

hear that salvage hunters were being filmed locally

and he commented

blimey
Ayeshah Mar 2010
How to write an English poem

Well this is what I do,

I listen to my dear friend "Jon"

Then I go about copying him.

He says  Good-marrow My to Thy lady

I laugh & reply back Hath thee fared well,

Like I'm in  Shakespeare's  Macbeth.

I love how

He uses "thou" different then myself

I say thou in sense of  "even though"

translations are must

to understanding my friend!

He speaks in

Cockney- crockery riddles

Yet some how I understand.

I doth not speak to make

fun of him

for I love his English gib,

I listen while learning

to write a sonnet since.

How to write an English poem.

I listen to Sir "Jon's"

witty sense of humor  

His cloaked sarcastic'ness

as he talks in general,

Saying such this as

Aroin't thee & Blimey ole chap

as if I know'th what he means.

How to write an English poem

Well frankly it's a pickle of a thing,

I say I doth rightly know lets ask'th

Sir"Jon & see!

He say'ith to me

"change your "****** dialect"....

And

when he's spitting made

He yells

O' God Save the queen.

He also talks of frippery

& ask if I'd like a spot of tea

when asking me questions

he laughs & quotes

such things like ;

" cheeky" little beggar or monkey

as "IF" I

know what he means.

Funny thing is though

Sir "Jon'

never really

******* told me

How to write an English poem

(so answers to every-ones question- I'd say walk around & say top of the morning,
ole chap & blimey, Even things like Bristol Cities & things likes this don't forget your "TH" s  
addressing your selves  a lot & put emphasis on every other syllable  & thing!)

Well dear Sir "Jon"
I am not  a British Bolk  
Just A YANKEE- New Englander
oh & a NuYorican
Ta Boot

So next when  I see You
****** Friend  tell me-  
How to write an English poem !?!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
With heavy hearts the lightened feet march up on Whitehall
take a peek,
then down below the trenches go
light up a woodbine,
'dontya know this is the show that we'll be late for', Says Scouse.
'Gor blimey mate' says cockney Joe, 'let's have a look at all them toffs'
and ups the periscope as scouse scoffs bully beef.

Thiefs of body, thiefs of friends,thiefs of time and there is a belief in some older men,
that this is a time when we remember 'them'
No words need be conveyed
no tears for what they gave
just a sober, sombre silence
like when the guns fell silent
one hundred years ago.
andy fardell Jun 2012
The dreamy sea washed ashore bringing
little bubbles of life to its end
Children splashed and jumped as wave after wave fell in
Bucket and ***** at the ready as castles from the sky
formed from minds in youth and fairy tales
Cream at the ready as grandads cap retreats  
crisped from the comfort of his strippy deckchair he waits  
Mothers blankets blown from the wind held down by
a shoe to be lost and a stone found yet not cast

These were the days we remember
These are the days we forget
These are the days to be treasured
A fine sad old memory from a past we most had    

Ice cream sounds calling at fathers request
Is grandma still yawning from bingo's night fest
a donut for mother all sugared and warm
don't forget Charlie as woof is all heard
A match game of cricket from children about
or footy at lunchtime sweet sand in your mouth


These were the days we remember
These are the days we forget
These are the days to be treasured
A fine sad old memory from a past we most had  

Asleep from the sun and a sneaky quick pint
as dad tries to doze be free to unwind
A call for 3 strikes as rounders is found
hear grandad all snoring more cream to be crowned  
Tis time for a dip to twinkle your toes
to jump back a mile oh blimey its cold

These are the memories all children should have
a time when no phones when a time wasn't planned
No little computers to spoil the day
just fun and great memories of children at play
A time when your family all joined in the fun
a shame we have lost this to greed and the sun
Daniel James Sep 2011
-10-
Regular Albert Whisker,
FE Squadron,
born 1939,
joined up at 18.

First time away from home and loving it, sir!

-9-
One day,
I’m just minding my own
at the airbase in Stranraer
when two officers appear
out of nowhere
and they ask
they ask if I’d fancy a long weekend?

Why not? I say.

Why not?

-8-
We’re staying at the Governor Clinton Hotel,
It's in New York.
Everything laid on.
Trip to Broadway and all.
Three whole days of paradise
All on the MOD.

-7-
Oh Gor Blimey!
What a sight when we stepped off the flight
onto Christmas Island for the first time.
Crushed white coral dust.

Like nothing I’d ever seen.

-6-
Our job is mainly to just do our job
which is mainly just military driving.
Land-rovers, lorries, tankers and that.
And avoiding the island ***** -
three times a day, they'd all crawl up the beach -
but they didn’t pay us for that.

-5-
Someone showed me their diary today
and it had a letter ‘H’ under today’s date.
So I’m working on the beach
when the tannoi sounds:

“Sit down and cover your eyes.
Testing will begin in five, four…”

-4-
And there was light.
A flash right through your skin and hands.
The biggest bang I’ve ever heard.
A flash.
Through your skin and bones and hands.
The biggest bang I’ve ever heard in all my life.

-3-
Then it was over.

Nothing much changed.

-2-
Except the mushroom cloud was there for quite a time.
And the Canberra bombers, the white ones, they flew through the cloud like little spores.

-1-
Then one day they just said “You’re done”
and we queued up to fly home to England.

Saw the new ones, the ‘moonies’, getting off the plane.
Sad to leave I was, yeah.
It was a good posting.
And nice weather, never rained,
Not rain at any rate.

Then, not long after, I was sent home for good.
They said I’d caught a cancer off a someone and
for me own good
I had to be discharged.

-0-
Sad really.

It was a good posting.
This is Albert Whisker's story. He was involved in Britain's first nuclear weapons testing programme on Christmas Island. To see an animation I was involved in scripting, see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yP5XXZUhpz8
Terry Collett Apr 2015
Yes Helen muses Id like to meet Benny by the Duke of Wellington but to ask Mum first and I dont think shell mind as its Benny as she likes Benny and his mum and mine know each other and talk to each other at the school gates and when they talk they talk and yes if I ask Mum nicely and when shes not busy shell let me go but I cant leave it too long or the time will go and he will have gone if Im not at the Duke of Wellington by ten past ten this morning has as he is going to the herbalist shop to buy liquorice sticks and sarsaparilla by the glassful and Benny says it makes blood so if I drink a pint I will make a pint of blood and hopefully I wont spillover with blood she waits a few minutes while her mother puts away the shopping Helen had bought home from Baldys and looking at her mother making sure her mothers features did not show too much stress and timing it right that was the key Benny told her once timing is the key he said her mother walks around the kitchen seemingly busy the baby crawling around her mothers feet and the smell of nappies boiling on the stove steam rising smell of it Mum she asks can I go out with Benny to the herbalist shop and buy some liquorice sticks and sarsaparilla? her mother picks up the baby she hugs him close smells his rear end pulls a face what did you say? her mother asks holding baby a little distance away from her arms out stretched walking to the put-down table over the bath and placing baby down can I go with Benny to the herbalist shop and get some sarsaparilla and liquorice sticks? Helen repeats standing with fingers crossed behind her back when are you wanting to go? her mother asks unpinning babys ***** and the smell erupting into the room and air as soon as I am allowed Helen says trying not to breath in hoping her mother will say yes but her mother hesitates her features ******* up her fingers pulling back the offending ***** and dropping it in a pail at her feet bring me a clean ***** from the other room Helen and some talcum power and some cream and best get some other safety pins as these are a bit well not fit to put on again until theyve been washed o keep still you little perisher dont move your legs so and no dont piddle on me go on then Helen dont dawdle so Helen walks into the other room and collects a ***** from the fireguard and talcum powder and cream and pins from the bag by the chair and takes them to her mother who is struggling to hold the baby in one place and clean up the smelling liquid and mess  and waving a hand in front of her face to give her fresher air give them here then girl I cant wait all day and here hold his legs the little figit so I can get him clean properly Helen pulls a face and carefully reaches over to try and hold her brothers legs still while her mother attempts to clean him up but her brothers legs move at a pace and hes quite strong for one so small she thinks hold him hold him her mother says Helen does her best for a little girl not yet in double figures there done it her mother says hes done now right take him and put him in the cot in the other room while I wash these nappies out can I? Helen asks can I go? go where? what do you want now? her mother says to go to the herbalist with Benny Helen asks he asked me this morning while I was getting the shopping at Baldys her mother put on the kettle and empties the nappies in the big sink when did you want to go? as soon as I am allowed Helen says gazing at her mother through her thin wired thick lens glasses hoping her mum will say yes off you go well you cant always rush off you know not when I may need you after all youre my big girl the oldest of the tribe but as youve been good this one time you can go but mind the roads and keep with Benny and if you need to go to loo make sure its a clean place and put some toilet paper on the seat you dont know who sits on them things ok I will Helen says trying to recall all her mothers instructions can I go now? she asks hoping her mother will not change her mind at the last minute best go now then her mother says its nine fifty nine fifty? Helen says what's that mean? ten minutes to ten her mother says o right Helen says and rushes into the passage way and put on your raincoat it looks like rain her mother calls out I got it Helens says and rushes out the door and down the stairs carefully not wanting fall down the steep steps she holds on to the stair rail and then out into the street and bright fresh air and dull clouds and she walks along Rockingham Street under the railway bridge and there he is Benny hands in his jeans pockets his hair and quiff creamed down and his hazel eyes gazing at her blimey he says youre earlier than I thought youd be he takes in her hair plaited into two and her thin wire framed glasses making her eyes larger than they are had to help Mum with my baby brother she says hed messed his ***** and Mum had to clean him up and needed me to help and gosh the smell Benny enough to make you feel sick and anyway Im here now o but I havent money I forgot to ask Mum for money she says biting a lip looking back towards where shed come I got money Benny says rattling coins in his jeans pocket she smiles and looks at him he gives her the kind of smile she likes the kind that makes her feel safe and wanted and she loves the coat he wears with the odd buttons and and his quiff of air and his warm what shall we do now stare.
A GIRL AND HER MOTHER AND A BOY AND MEETING IN LONDON IN 1955.
Ayeshah Mar 2010
(Readers I been going crazy to write  like this for a long time so if it suxs  too bad lol please read its a bit long also 4 those who do ty for reading & commenting)
________________­_______________
She seen his stares since earlier in the ball room & during most of their acquaintance's growing up also when he'd visited her family at her home in Hampshire... She bluntly ignored his many advances while
at the Queen's Ball and she also publicly shunned him in front of  many aristocrats, He asked her even then to be his wife, She flat out said NO! with out going through the proper channels it  "*******" just wasn't done,  Her chaperon Lady Gideon was no where to be found so she did what she thought was best and walked away from him as fast as her small frame would allow.  

She did indeed find Lady Gideon in the kitchens with  the cook in the "Blimey!" broom closet. NOW on this night she'd truly become his and pay for her misdeeds & mistreatment's of him at The Queen's Ball...Duke Lincoln Pierre held his new bride Virgina Abagael Pierre  
tightly as he assaulted her mouth thrusting his tongue in her mouth- parting her lips in a seductive dance, as his hands moved lavishly up & down her buttocks, betwixt her bodice caressing her breast.

Lincoln tried hard to control his need for his new bride,  He was supposed  to be with his "mates" for another hour or so whilst his-  " well now" his wife's maids readied her for their marriage bed.
Lincoln couldn't wait & as he rushed his guest out the door not even
waiting for Jefferey his Butler to do so, He ran taking the steps two at a time, His need for Virgina was more then lust.  He wanted her ever since she shunned him at the Queens ball & as he visited her home--  watching her bloom into womanhood, Tonight she'd pay for his humiliations of that night at the Ball. He burst open the door and bellowed  for the maids to Get OUT!

At once they went running like rats. All except Beatrix stood her
ground and told him in not to kind-of words that  "She" had to prepare Virgina properly and He was acting reckless.
Beatrix  was his nanny & nursery maid, she was  also there when he first open his sparkling  hazel round eyes, God rest "Duckies" soul, His mum, she died in this same bed whilst she gave her last breath for this handsome devil.  His Da,  poor man was getting on in age and this was a wish he left in his will to be fulfilled before he died. "Lin" as she'd called him must fulfill but without scaring the poor chit off.

She unfasten Virgina's stays & hooks as fast as her old hands would allow, before she could help her out of her bodice  "Lin" ushered her out....Well she'd said her peace and exit Lincoln's rooms praying as she left.....
Lincoln kept  up his assault  while Virgina had a look of fear & misunderstanding in her mahogany sapphire eyes, Her small frame was shaking to her very core,  Poor chit but it couldn't be helped he was in a rush to be done with virgins and their silly concepts of love ex specially this "his" new prudent bride,  Yet he wanted to make her come alive, bring out the "bleed'in devil" of lust he knew was trapped deep within Virgina's un tapped core.
Lincoln teased and licked as he removed her clothing, ripping a bit of fabric in is haste, she kissed him back! Shocking his own sense of sensibility.

He picked her up splayed her on the bed and stared at her dark luscious Honey chocolate  creamy coco skin, it shined like a lovely indigo ocean on a summers night.
With carious longing and dread,
it was still an interesting moment Virgina didn't know what to do and as he capture her waist she felt  even more unsure, sensing a thrilling sensation wash over her,  Her new husband Duke Lincoln Pierre kissed her with un-abandon lust Virgina instinctively crawled up to the head board on the bed, as she did so her new husband reached for her in a blink of an eye she was caught in his steel grip, she cried out not for pain but because she had no ideal what he meant to do with her,

Lincoln laughed and made a tsk tsk sound as he pulled himself atop of Virgina.  "My Lady I beseech you please leave off I mean you no harm''
Lincoln proclaimed yet his meek smile said he was lying,
Virgina only stared with her mouth gaped in a perfect lush O shape.  
Her husband undone he own clothes  in a heated rush.  
Once done he stalked towards her kneeling on the bed.  
With Virgina's gaze fixed tranquilly on his stiff shaft, she looked at it apprehensively  she wanted to move away yet her limbs wouldn't allow her to and with banned tears threatening to over flow
she ****** in her breath as her capture Duke Pierre her husband climb a top of her.  

Little did her husband know she'd wanted  him all her life she longed to become his bride but she had no ideal it entailed this rough treatment of her person to gain access.
She'd sit with her own nanny "Liv" short for Olivia  
at Hyde Park watching as his carriage made it's rounds.  She dreamed even then to marry him, his eyes always laughing and He was forever teasing her when He'd visited  her "now" deceased parents lord Duke&Duchess; Harrisburg. She'd dream he were always saving her from dragons and evil villains.

But tonight he seemed the Villain.
As he touched creatively over her she felt flushed, his hands trailed down to her hairline where her tulip was hidden as he proceeded to caress her he felt for her budded rosebud playing teasing  rubbing his fingers with gentleness over her.
He continued until Virgina's head was thrashing wildly left & right on the pillow she was scared and shocked not knowing what was coming over her,  she wanted something--   this need that was growing  building within her, she didn't understand and it made her feel weak with a longing she couldn't comprehend, as he removed his finger & hand a light yet cool breeze cam through the cracked window causing the sensation to slowly subside Lincoln moved down trailing kisses as he went his mouth hovered mere inches above her tight yearning rosebud he bet down and tasted honey as he licked in an out of his new bride, sliding his index finger within her tight silt wile wrapping his mouth around her budding rose, he ******, gently  causing Virgina automatically to lift her legs wrapping her hands in his golden brown hair.

He felt her throbbing shaking and he wanted to laugh because of him she now new what it meant to be pleasured,  Virgina began trembling with a urgency not knowing what her body wanted just that she liked this feeling that washed over her from her toes up to her Honey dark coco head.  Her long brown auburn hair fell in waves of curls around her as she melted to her husbands ministrations.

Lincoln could barely contain his want and in his eyes His new bride was a wanton ready for plucking like a ripe strawberry, His little filly was bucking beneath his demonstration's.
He'd played with the God's wile tempting the devil & now there was Hell to pay...  Sadly for his new ****** bride he could no longer hold back, he wanted to consume her, his control was failing, wreaking havoc on his now intoxicating senses.  

Virgina bucked up towards his mouth letting out a seductive cry breaking Lincoln's last restraints  
He spread her wide held her fast
both his hand on either side of her hips as he lead his shaft within her lustrous wet inviting opening, moving in her swiftly as to not cause any more unnecessary pain,
He felt her maiden-head give way but it was to late t pause, he try not to move slow,
which with half in sympathy he wanted to stop his penetrating ****** yet his need for release in his new ****** brides velvet tight silt kept him urging forward deeper&deeper; within her tight walls.

Virgina let out a piercing scream as she also called out Lincoln's name twas an interesting moment when a fierce jolt consumed both occupants of this lovers den, she cried out as he ******'ed deeper still within his new bride....

No longer did he want to  punish her he felt something chip away at his heart releasing a need to want more then her body as they coiled becoming meshed together in legs & limbs traveling on waves of ******* bliss.
Duke & Duchess Pierre

Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
Let’s face it:
Vietnam was a purge.
An undeclared yet official
War on largely Black, Chicano,
Mostly urban, poor White-trash--
Any of that unlucky-cohort--
Coming of age, mid-60s America.
A purge yes, but 'Nam was also an
Intelligence Test:  them that went,
Particularly those who never returned,
Those scoring at least two standard deviations out,
Outside normal, therefore inferior genetic make-up,
Those the country could surely do without.
“Three Generations of Imbeciles Are Enough.”
www.genomicslawreport.com /.../three-generations-of-imbeciles-are-enough... So wrote Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. in Buck v. Bell, a 1927 Supreme Court case upholding a Virginia law that authorized the state to...”
I couldn’t have said it better, Justice Holmes!
The Nam: those of us who did survive were
Nonetheless, mangled and traumatized,
In both body & spirit.
We knew right away we’d been duped,
Particularly those gun-friendly southern boys,
Hunting ***** for sport and Country, now contemplating
Remorseful acts of mass homicide 40 years ago.
The real poindexters of our generation, of course:
Got a medical deferment, or
Stayed in college, or
Went north to Canada, or
As I did, joined the Coast Guard, unfortunately,
In addition to my nightmare Indochine,
My personal Disneyland Jungle Cruise,
Based on Joseph Conrad’s
Congo Nightmare Novella--
Heart of Darkness.)
And Józef wrote it in English.
Which was for the native Pollack,
His third language after Polish & French,
Which is probably a good time to
Encourage each & every young punk
On the cellblock to make good use of their time:
Learn a foreign language., e.g.
Why not Spanish?
Given Obama’s farcical, unrestricted border policy.
Soon to be a pervasive lingua Esperanto.

My politics? Sign me up for a little T.A.D.,
Manning a 50-caliber machine gun on Donald’s Wall.
Donald Trump:  A Modern Hadrian?
Don’t get me started on politics.
Take a Spanish class.
Finally, you’ll know what those
Grease-ball Mexican landscapers are
Saying behind your back, right in front of you.

After the Army, & after college on the G.I. Bill,
That’s when I joined the Coast Guard.
OCS in the 1970s was a difficult (read:
Lower Standards) recruiting time for
The Armed Forces of the United States,
Including the U.S. Coast Guard.
OCS: The Oklahoma Cook School we joked.
Officer Candidate School: graduating
Nautically savvy 90-Day Wonders,
Inculcated with conduct becoming &
Other archaic, chivalrous values,
Imprinted with Chain of Command obeisance,
Etched deep an acolyte’s primer on class-consciousness.
Blimey! What a difference after my previous
Two years stint as an Army grunt which leads me to
An overwhelming question: Why do Officers live
Better than enlisted pukes?
The Military: last refuge for scoundrels,
Escape artists & last bastion of medieval feudalism.
Officers! Welcome to the Aristocracy.
Mazel Tov,
Bienvenidos!
It's the Class Structure,
The dominant organizing principle for humanity,
Since the dawn of human history, perhaps longer,
Consider, if you will, “Alley Oop.”
“Alley Oop” Lyrics | MetroLyrics: (www.metrolyrics.com) “There's a man in the funny papers we all know . . . Eats nothin' but bearcat stew, A mean motor scooter & a bad go-getter . . . King of the jungle jive.”
Even longer if we go troglodyte era,
Some mean-mother, some swinging
Foucault’s pendulum set of *****,
Some club-wielding Duke of Earl—
Simply put: some Alpha Male,
Sticking it up whatever polygamous
Multiple Missus *** just happened to be
Bending over within my field of vision at
Any given moment.
I am the block’s biggest, baddest, meanest cat,
Made right by might: physical power &
Will to use it.

Then came Divine Right: Dieu et mon droit.
French for “God and my right.”
Conceived by the shrewd ones,
Those staying out of trouble,
Cringing in the corner of the cave, AKA
The inherently weak, concluding, at last, with
Marx: “The history of all hitherto existing
Society is the history of class struggles.”
Don't get chippy lippy,
where's the ****** spinach Jeff!,

I didn't think you was a two-bit cook,
I thought you were a chef!,
so wheres the ****** spinach Jeff!,

Where's the bleeding turbot, Herbert?,
and where's the feeking risotto,
if I don't get some ****** food soon,
I'll drink a bottle of wine and get blot-toad

Where's the ****** crab, Brad?,
blimey! does it smell high to you!?,
You'll ****** **** someone,
and bleeding get me sued!

By Christos Andreas Kourtis and Larna Kira Kourtis
cheryl love Sep 2013
Just a cool orange drink,
Sparkling, the clink of ice
A long straw bobbing with bubbles
and you have found paradise.

Sitting on a sandy beach,
Blue sky, no cloud, just nice.
Listening to the children play
and you have found paradise.

In walks a man, wife at doorstep
Drunk, he knows he is in paradise.
She yells, he thinks, she cries, he laughs.
smack she smiles, he cries.

He is out cold, she is warm in bed.
He snuggles the doormat, blimey he thinks.
The wife ought to have a shave
and she absolutely stinks!

The cat joins him on the doormat
Licking his bruised face, mmm nice.
A pair of slippers also joins them
But he is till in his drunken paradise.

A bucket of cold water joins them too
A stark wake up call hit his face.
"Ouch! where am I? who are you?"
"Get me out of this cruel place!"

"You are home fool. Get to bed"
His face yells, crinkling at the brow.
Secretly she is enjoying all of this,
what have I done to upset her now?

Once again he finds paradise
in the form of crisp white sheets and dreams.
Alcohol  is playing with all his mishaps
And his paradise is not now what is seems.
Francie Lynch Aug 2020
It's well-known,
The younger you are,
The better your memory.
You refute.
I agree to your exceptions.
You agree they have less to remember.
We laugh, but know it to be true.
Our memory is full.
I unintentionally delete memories.
I don't get to decide how to make room.
The younger you are the more space you have.
The more empty cells, you quip.
Little vacuums, I add.
Wanting to be filled.

I make an exception.
Some cells are memory dedicated;
Protected from the sub-conscious decision-making process that is responsible for deletions...

I saw To Sir With Love
Over five decades ago (perhaps you know it).
I can't tell you which delinquent said,
Blimey, red blood!
When Thackery cut his hand.
I didn't care when I was thirteen
What the difference was between
Empowering teachers,
And overpowering teachers;
No!
But I recall the colour of racism
In the drama
On Thackery's face.
Watch it again, or for the first time. Also has one of the hottest pop singles of the 60's as theme song.
Coyote Feb 2011
Nothing to do with shampoo bottles, empty or otherwise I'm afraid. Just some rambling nonsense from an over stressed imagination.


Sitting alone
listening to
tunes Lennon
never lived to write
I find the sight of
sunlight streaming
through the blinds
quite depressing

I'm guessing I should
say **** it and pull
the trigger but the
bigger picture looms
large before me

The contemporary
decay of society
more than I can
tackle at this crackling
moment of existence
but tomorrow after all,
is another day.

Look at that!
Three choppy
little verses all
much too sad to
ignore
(leading now
to number four)

Hey, how bout a joke?
An Irish bloke walks
past a pub...

What? It could happen

Blimey, me rhymes
a sodden mess.
I guess I'll hang it up
for the night and fight
the great fight in the
morning. If you've
read this far, you've
got my gratitude.

(And sympathy)
Tryst Jul 2014
I won the bloomin' lottery,
Cor blimey so I did!
No more scrubbin' socks for me,
I've won ten million quid!
I'm goin' on a ******,
Nuffin's gonna bring me down;
I'll be the biggest spender,
Gonna buy the whole **** town!

My new found wealth is awesome,
Have you seen my mansion pool?
I play tennis in a foursome,
And my coach is really cool;
On Wednesday's its Pilates,
And on Sunday's it's Judo!
Now I'm jetting to the Maldives,
Toodle-pip -- I have to go!

One finds oneself most indisposed,
To do this interview;
One's butler will be swift deposed,
For letting you get through;
One will accede to your request,
Tho' Sir, this is your lot;
Despite the wealth with which one's blessed,
One has not changed a jot!
133
One more follower
Than all the teachers and kids
At my school. Blimey.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
a gentleman never drinks in the morning,
he begins drinking in a well-established afternoon
hour, preferably after sartre's hour (3pm),
after much of the day's beehive activity is
finished.

woke at a glorious hour of the morn's sun,
crisp wintry shades and contortions all around,
started to make a swedish meatball recipe:
meatballs (d'uh),
garlic, onion, bay leaf, a pinch of salt,
peppercorns, ground all-spice,
grated nutmeg, milk (eye-measurement),
beef stock (half a litre of water), mushrooms,
quarter of a glass of plain flour, the herb dill,
and as before: like reading a book of fiction -
watching the "plot" thicken,
although almost poured down the toilet
after a panic over the addition of flour
turning into fudge bergs, but obviously
cooking requires time for the things to fuse
into one... now i remember why i enjoy
cooking as much as organic chemistry experiments,
same ****, different cover.
then i wasted the time... until i made myself
a sharpshooter (mix of whiskey and coca cola,
although the ratio of whiskey winning over
the cola, hence the sharpness distinct) -
blimey, i have to invent a new drinking vocabulary,
like this one time i was alone (as is usual for me)
at liverpool st. in a pub, got talking to
this half-irish-half-iranian kid,
waiting for his girlfriend that never came,
he was bouncing off the walls at the embarrassing
situation:
- so where you from?
- essex, unfortunately.
(blah blah blah)
- no, but where are you from originally?
(a standard line of dialogue in london,
a. where you from? b. no, but originally?
c. where are your parents from?
****** me off, all the ****** time)
- well... some people tell me i look like a german.
then i was saved from the dreary conversation
by a couple, a black guy and ivory skin brunette.
- what you drinking?
- *** and coke.
- ah that's a **** name for a drink
(itemising the visage, black beard)
black-beard! *** ** ** and a sailor too.
the window open, the windowsill perched on,
sharpshooter in my hand, listening to zero7's
when it falls... a day pocketed;
but while making svenska kottbullar
i was listening to metronomy's the english riviera,
and with the song *the look
i couldn't
stop comparing it to taylor swift's shake it off,
i don't mind, the stand-out track is still she wants;
but i'm still annoyed by one pedantic detail
i have to... SHOUT ON THE TOP OF A MOUNTAIN!
i get the greek aesthetic orthographic meddle
between omicron and omega, the sigma
at the end and in between letters of a word...
i get that... but why, did, they, have, to... make
upsilon (υ) and nu (ν)... so annoyingly similar,
esp. when italicised! huh?!
Edna Sweetlove Aug 2015
Yay, it's another lovely Barry Hodges "Memories" poem.*

How happily I recall the excitement of my visits to Lewisham's hospital
For my regular "haemorrhoid adjustment/re-alignment" sessions,
During which time I made the acquaintance of a nursing sister
With possibly the fiercest libido in south-east London.
And one night, whilst we were "on the job" in her comfy cubicle,
I glanced over her fat shoulder through the cracked observation window.

Ah yes, dear reader, it was the relatively cleanish Ward G
(the terminal one where the near-dead await merciful release,
wittily nicknamed "the happy dreamers' room" by the matron,
an evil predatory old **** with a 40-inch waist and wild halitosis);
I watched a spectacularly ugly nurse peering o'er the screen
Around poor old ******* Bertie "Big *****" Bloggs.

His wasted, crippled, whitened pyjamed form
Lay twitching on the none-too-clean patched sheets;
He opened his unseeing, ancient eyes and gave voice:
"Give us a gobble" the old ****** croaked pathetically,
"You know you want to, you fat smelly *****".
And then he croaked.  Unsucked and unloved,

O my beloved lector, compassionate creature that thou art,
Surely thy pleasure will be utterly intensified to learn that
The NHS bedsheets were indelibly and spectacularly stained
As his bowels opened spontaneously with Death's kindly appearance.
"Gor ******* blimey, what a ******* horrid pong," came a groan:
('twas Sammy "No Legs" Smith in mid-**** on a nearby trolley).

These events in the ward led to an inevitable result for me:
You have divined it correctly, O treasured fan of mine,
Yea verily, the happenings I espied made me blow my ***
Most prematurely and my love-partner, the sylphlike Sister Sally,
Was so sodding annoyed she crushed my tender haemorrhoids
Quite brutally in her surgical spirit-hardened left hand.
Dandelion and chamomile
peppermint and elderflower,
gee
whatever happened to
good old English tea?

What was good enough for dear old dad
is good enough for me.

You may wish and say
that there's no way
tea
is English,
I wish your wishes away.

What else could it be at a quarter to three,
but tea time?
my time where
biscuits and Earl Grey will
suit me quite fine.

At her time of life,
my wife would be having a baby
if I told her that tea was not blighty,
cor blimey
strike me dumb
make me fingers numb
if tea don't come
from England.
Oh the cat is out of the hat
the maiden has lost her knickers
and my aunt Nelly blimey
oh what a kerfuffle

My wife just put ****** on the sausages
and one from the oven has shot up the dogs ***
oh this is not good, at party like this
oh what a kerfuffle

There must be at least twelve saints here
those that must be revered
yet they are dancing like nutters
oi the beers are over here

God look at peter paul and dingo
don't they act like plebs
I would not dance
if I could get the beat out of my head

Lets take it to the garden
and do the moonlight shuffle
let's be foot loose and fancy free
oh what a kerfuffle


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Ksjpari Aug 2017
A school in a village without any pastel –
Divine Child which never cares for riel
Strives for excellence. Does propel
The children upwards and rebel
Against injustice gigantic or sea shell;
Strives to let its stars and carvings excel
With the artistic hands of its roselle.
All play ups and disobeys did she quell
For all discourteous and insolent is knell.
Insurgencies and Illiteracy repel
As soon as they hear Divine’s yell.
She made IAS, engineer and Laurel
Who are shining brightly in parallel.
The capacity to write is more in noel
As during Christmas less is evil’s spell
And more golly and blimey impel.
She is still like a nice damoiselle
Not touched by corruption or rebel.
This is pond. In it many a Raphael
Have drowned to break a cell
From which brains emerged like sail
Which drove young minds to foretell
Their future. With Anandi ma’am’s spell
She still does prosper, flourish and excel.
Pari Style Poems by Sanket D Jain. Review my poems 2 encourage my unique Pari Style
Mark Jun 2020
I’M FEELING FONDERFUL & WANTASTIC IN SHAPESHIP CONDITION  
From the 11th diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.  
 
Smoochy, my dad Archie and I, all went sailing yesterday morning, in the very large blue ocean. We went on dad's small, banana-shaped, sailingboat, which took about two hours to get there by car, from my family's home. Which, is nestled amongst the trees on a hill, in a little country village called, Shimmerleedimmerlee.  
 
It was my second time out in dads small, banana-shaped, sailingboat. But, it was Smoochy's first time in a boat on water. Although, he is famous around town, for being the first mouse, that has been out to sea, on the back of a whale.  
 
My Dad, was trying to teach me how to steer the boat, tie up the ropes, weigh anchor and all sorts of other boatie, thingy-me-jiggy things, that you should learn. That's if, you ever want to sail a boat by yourself, especially when you are older, like I will hopefully do one day.  
 
We were learning a lot and enjoying the morning together, until my dad, moved the sail, riggy-diggy-thingy. You know, the thing that helps all sailboats stay on course and turn when they want. 'You know what I mean, don't you'?  
 
But, silly old me didn't move out of the way in time. Whack, went the riggy-diggy-thingy, wooden beam thing, straight into my head and then thump, I fallen down backwards, which caused a bump on the back of my head, that was clearly the size of a bumpity-bump, speed ****.  
 
Then, dad's, small, banana-shaped, sailingboat, started sailing towards a colourful pirate ship, that had an unusual Jolly Roger, an old pirate's flag on top of its mast. It looked like a picture of a family of yellow tailed bears under a tree, in a mountain range with a hot air balloon stuck high above. The name of the ship, which was spelt out across its bow was, Shift-N-About.  
 
When, we were beside the pirate ship, we climbed up Jacob's ladder, onto the ship. Then, some funny looking crew members, named, Anastasia and Houllio, welcomed me aboard and said, 'Ahoy, me Hearty'! I looked in disbelief and said back to them both, ' Hello, my friends, haven't I seen you perform somewhere before'?  
 
Then, Johnny whose nickname was, 'Hamanail', the ships very own handyman, and his apprentice named, Little Cutsaw Stevie, threw me into the corner and tied me down tight with some, really awful, fish smelling, rope.  
 
Smoochy, The Short, who wore a yellow feather tail in his hat, was the ships lookout officer. With his trusty homemade, fancy, far out, funny binoculars, he would look out for trouble, while nestled, high up above, in the ships crow's nest. Which, by the way, looked very much like my dad's, unusually built and outrageously painted, backyard, outback shed.  
 
The pirate ship also had its own mascot and his name was, Bucko the Duckaneer. Who, always sat in the top left-hand side pockets, of the Captain's identical, twin, lassie daughters, Lena and Mena, at different times of the day.  
 
Then, a boat was seen approaching at super duper fast speed and with the waves his boat was making, tossed the homemade pirate ship Shiftnabout, Slip Slop and Slapping all about, just like inside a waterlogged washing machine full of sea fish.  
 
The Captain Triple T said, 'Fire a shot, across the bow of that super fast boat. Savvy, which he yelled out to him. It actually, really means, 'Do you understand the warning and do you agree with me'?  
 
But the super fast boats captain, Stefan Pettersson of North Noland, who was just cruising past, laughed and shook his head again. He then took off, in his super, fast boat named, Snowski. See! 'You are just another Scallywag, who tried to scuttle my ship.  
 
Is everything shipshape in the galley, ye cook down below? Then, up popped a head and said, 'Yay, everything is **** n Span in the kitchen of mine'. All cleaned up and under control, Flo the Cook was yelling, while handling the very hot bread dough.  
 
Smoochy the Short screamed out, 'Thar she blows'. Smoochy the Short, the ships lookout officer had spotted a very large fish. Blimey! He said, 'It's not a large fish, it's a very familiar whale and it's headed our way.  
 
Captain Billy Stilrite hollered, 'Shiver-Me-Timber and Blow-Me-Down'.  
 
Then, the whale deliberately, slammed into his pirate ship. It was, his pride and joy, even it was cheaply made from wooden ply.  
 
Holy Crap! Aaaarrrrgggghhhh! He yelled in disgust. The whale had managed to rip a large hole in the ship, and out fell the pirate's treasure into the swell. Down and down it went, with all the pirate's mouths wide open and dropping to the floor. But, not a word came out, like you would've expected. They, should've of at-least, managed a groan or a yell.  
 
Then, another pirate ship named, Shining-No-More, had come to steal gold coins and so much more, from the pirate ship we were aboard, named,  
 
Shift-N-About. But, the large hole that the whale had made, was filling up with water and beginning to sink.  
 
Yo ** **! screamed, Captain Triple T, to me, 'Walk the plank now and never be seen on my pirate ship again'. He said, 'That I had made all of this happen'. But, I said, 'It wasn't my fault, for I was knocked out cold and only napping'.  
 
Then, all of the crew started clapping, once I was upon the plank and taking very small steps at a time.  
 
The crew aboard the Shining Amor, felt sorry for the other ships crew and started to help them all aboard. They were helped by people with funny names, such as, Admiral Monty Lopez from the Spanish Armada, 'One would think'!Then, others like Lemmy Rolling-River and even the ship's butler named, Albert Will-That-B-All, the eighth of course.  
 
They, were about to rescue me, but I slipped and fell, head first and took a great dive. Then, I thought while down under here, I might as well start searching, for the sunken treasure.  
 
On my way down, I saw all sorts of things, like a small fish, that didn't smell so nice and even an old rusty knight in shining armor. I even saw a dog with a great big Danish flag around its neck. Also, I saw a yellow duck, an orange Tabby cat and even a guinea pig, swimming on by.  
 
I then saw, the chest full of treasure and made my way towards my find. But when I looked closer, it wasn't treasure at all. It was a glass of my favourite Fruit-Blast, that my mum, had left out for me. She, had made it especially for me, so when I woke up, my head wouldn't feel sore anymore.  
 
For after my great fall, my dad, had sailed back to shore. Then, he carried me into the back of the family's car and drove me home to bed.  
 
When i awoke, my Mum came in to ask, 'How I felt'. I told her, 'I'm feeling Fonderful & Wantastic in shapeship condition, I think!  
 
For none of my fun pirate adventures were even real. For, I was unconscious and it was just an adventurous dream, a very colourful and funny one indeed, it would seem.
© Fetchitnow
20 October 2019.
This children’s fun adventure book series, is only for children from ages, 1-100. So please enjoy.
Note: Please read these in order, from diary entry 1-12, to get the vibe of all of the characters and the colourful sense of this crazy mess.
Susan N Aassahde Dec 2019
blind dumpter potato
traffic principal
shepherd lagoon swift
(no braggadocio! modest rodomontade scored triumphantly!)

Unbeknownst to me, a generic human ape,
an unpleasant surprise
     swished down like an ominous cape
awaited and near smothered me drape

ping that October morning, where no escape
presaged via frisky black cats
     chasing shadows on fire escape
crossed my path after walking under a ladder
     where ice **** ravens didst jape!
**********
Wheels of injustice applied via de
fender, sans Johnny Cochran forced ee
year splitting amidst general public fee
ver rush to absorb disbelief shell shock hee
ret tickle non guilty conviction from key

ping popular culture spell bountious lee
really exhausted viz three ring me
dee ya circus (June 1994 – October 1995) pre
vail ling obvious evidence irrelevant, thus re
deeming O.J. Simpson to strut guilt free

from emotionally charged trial. I awoke
as usual and performed customary bespoke
oblations vis a vis half-hour plus choke
hold asphyxiation meditation, okey doke
shuteye discipline followed daily to evoke

calm, cool, and collected trance zen dental
bliss before motoring on with gist of gentle
lee presented vignette, though me mental
state did not shift gears into a rental

modus operandi, but only partially new
trawl eyed , cuz the then fiancé (one mew
zing chic chick i.e. Abby Robin Zison), Jew
dish us lee spent the night
     at our transitional grew

some domicile) immediately nsync to report do
tuff lee (at the Goddard School)
     raced like a Chew
Bach ha's Dickensian protagonist back up Badoo
two flights of stairs. Like eponymous Aloo

men hum mushing spry feline woman out bitta bing
bitta bang (clanging like hells bells) ding  
donging, she immediately flew back fling
all four feet eleven of her harried style jing

ling in an agitated state she set foot to go bob  
bing out the door intent
   (as iterated) driving to her job,
and in combination pantomime
   and words crisis did lob

asper like a bot to me,
     she attempted to communicate rob
bing her unsuspecting fount of thespianism
   tub air gritty modicum
   of rationale from putrid slob

name of Leslie (the lunatic landlady)
     thine paramour conveyed clarity mouth ajar
after surmising urgent news
     required automatic action to un bar
driveway, where I parked car,

the previous night surreptitiously venal far
from rational rapscallion most definitely har
bored an axe to grind, and locked Ford Escort par
**** shinned within chain linked fence - war

fore suggestion got made
     (from future bride)
to confront landlady,
     and sternly insist and mildly chide
corrective action taken,

     yet this storyteller defied
said suggestion, and brainstormed
    with betrothed asthma guide
averting compromising neither of our pride

and prejudice respective, sans stevedore
managers would not let us slide
gnome hatter, how we could not
     escape deprecation
     no matter how much we tried.

Prior to heading off to bed
     the prior night, I deigned
to express likelihood to landlord/owner
     thyself and pseudo spouse needed to find

another place to live. The major reasons
for vacating premises? Her grind
ding cigarette no ifs, ands
     or buts smoking mind
less ness ranked (on par
     with chimney didst wind

     burning wood smoke
at full blast) as primary source
     of revulsion did provoke,
and aye came across with homespun folksy
sensitive mien, as a simple country bloke
I expressed honest sentiment at being
extremely averse (where hacking awoke

     the future wife)
     from second hand carcinogen(s)  
     extant within cancer sticks. Asphyxiation deafen
knit lee found me choking half to death even
putting towel under the door, or

     additionally keeping
     bedroom window wide open,
the malodorous nicotine wisps ambled - pen
     knit trait ting, wending, curly cued,
     and filtered thru fabric with mischievous yen.

No matter, the twisting tendrils of tobacco found
their way into ole factory nasal cavity ground
zero, sans health conscious holistic being hound
did, what constituted one deranged dame
     the SPCA ought to impound.

Another factor fueling foul accommodations yin
     wanna know offset fine tuned win
Dixie yang,
     which odoriferous torture constituted

     nauseating odor of cat *****
and litter boxes smelt worse than sin,
cuz, they never got cleaned of feline ***** matter
     near visible as a unsightly dangerous shark fin.

Upon summoning effort
     and energy to communicate
bona fide concerns, she responded
     and didst denigrate

with contempt fiery madness irate
psychotic malicious venomous vile
     as dead body snatcher mate
and then insidious wheels

     of malice with tongue flames
crackling, popping, and snapping
     from out her reptilian pate
     began to turn more sharply

     amidst ghoulish clatter and path
     of destruction on her tabula rosa slate
with more danger than
     along axis of evil tete a tete.

She madly paced back and forth
     across maligned envisioned aisle
a small patch of uncluttered space in main foyer
     witnessed seething rage wherein

     carpeted floor boards,
     an imperfect circle shod feet didst dial
no doubt internally
     plotting vengeful strategic guile.

Castigations, fulminations, and insinuations ague
gulled out her mouth
     noxious fumes left exit pronto flew
ludicrous lacerations
     from fiery dragon lady did spew

while yours truly soundly slept
     and without incident dreamt edenic view
she unwittingly trappings to annihilate  Xandu
some personal vendetta. After I washed, dressed as a zoo

keeper headed downstairs,
     the malicious scheme she did hatch
out back became a living reality,
     an empty house doors hooked with latch

(Samir, the other occupant) left hours earlier no match
to tangle with wicked witch absented premises natch
eerily echoed every footstep trod one patch,
after another
     patent leather slippers paused to scratch

an niche 'pon second landing
     (to confirm a strong hunch)
that nary a soul heard nor seen,
     probably out to lunch,

no raving ranting banshee
     demented drunk as punch
No zombie like entity appeared from the “DO
NOT DISTURB” sign affixed
     outside sleeping area, aye did scrunch

brow to compress insight,
     where mangy catatonic felines
     shared coterie holograms suddenly jumped out
     from virtual reality cat n' app cradle
     swishing tails shorn like cat o' nines

mewing obscenities (within/ out
     computer screen, ominous signs,
sans phantasmagoric phantom) lurking
     like a lunatic swing from vines.

Nonetheless, I continued to tread
     down dimly lit said
lower level with glimmer
     of optimism to bolster lead

din heavy mood crossing fingers
     spare set of skeleton keys
     (with cross bones and skull head)
nearly always left tantalizingly
     dangling in unused door latch, twas cred

double wish, thus spirit within me soared
and just as quickly sank to abyss of psyche moored
     sensation felt like poured molten lava oh Lord
Guess what? No such luck. Oh,
     she definitely would not a ford

carelessness, and took precautions okay
hiding temptation to make a getaway
Well…I stepped outside
     to assess situation. Blimey cray
zee myopic eyes forced to glean deadbolt
     found gate shut tight, thence a feeble bray

escaped parched lips, when lo...vix
teased and cross myopic eyes,
     no doubt played tricks
holy glory. Ah, a handsaw
     carelessly got left and altered mix
matched tool chest in plain view, a sudden fix

but prior to acting on the plan, quite do able
I made a few telephone calls
     first telephonically cable
hub rate, and firstly contacted employer

     told tale more unbelievable than a fable
thence to local police
     in order to file complaint against
     goon bonkers malicious monstrous label

quick as the brown fox
     jumps over the lazy dog
escape attempted perilous hell grog
ghee nightmare commenced after placing

     phone back on cradle, whence nog
     'gin set fingers to twitch busily
     sawing into one steel link,
    (an effort aye did slog)

thru to break at one linkedin steel segment
barricading trusty Ford Escort
     so this fellow could hightail with pent
up adrenaline out of nefarious
     steely web and test a mint...,

     whence surge of adrenaline
coursed from head to toe,
     my heart pounded not so gent
lee ready to burst from chest,
     and palms perspired profusely
with unexpected accursed of evil incarnate
     vis a vis hell bent agent

provocateur ready to pounce
     and deliver violent
retribution, which blows
     from blunt heavy object,
   would invariably render me unconscious
   courtesy of cerebral rent.

For better than worse, a kind face
of destiny smiled from countenance grace
sing unseen karma
     smiled smooth as sateen or lace
upon my essence as shaking hands

     furiosly moved saw handle
     back and forth dozens of times until…
THE CHAIN BROKE AND SET ME FREE
     now fickle finger of fate
     got me ought ta this place!
Bardo Jul 9
I dreamt I awoke...in Woking...in England
"Woking", I thought, "you gotta be joking!
What was I doing, doin' here in Woking"
I felt like Dr. Who stepping out of the TARDIS
And all the people there they were all looking, they were all staring at me
It was like the whole world was gaping
As if...as if there was something to see
I wondered 'Had my mask fallen and was what they were now seeing, was it something appalling
Could they see the real me ?'
So I started running...runnin' 'cos I thought they were all gunning
Gunnin' out to get me

And I met this policeman, this burly constable
And I said to him "I didn't want to awaken in Woking at all
I just wanted to get back home"
He replied "The last train out of Woking had just gone"
So I ran on
And it started raining... raining and I was soaking... soakin'
Soakin' in Woking
Then I met this sweet little London gal
She said "Cor Blimey where you goin'"
I told her I didn't know...
I told her "Here in Woking I felt like I was choking, that all the walls they were closing in"
I said I'd just been dreaming...dreamin'
But what was the meaning... the meaning
And why had they put me here in Woking
What... what was the reason ?"

"Have you been drinking Love?" she said
"No!" I replied indignantly, "I haven't been drinking, I was just sleeping...sleepin'
But hadn't expected to awaken, to awaken here in Woking
I opened up to her a bit then,  I said "Though I was getting older I was... I was always still hoping
But then suddenly I woke up and found myself here, here in Woking
What was it all about ?"
"You poor darling " she said
(For a moment Woking didn't seem so bad after all)
Then she reached into her purse and brought forth some coppers and offered them to me
I said "No! No! You don't understand... you don't understand...

I awakened from Woking a little after the morning had broken
Still in one piece and still with all my secrets  intact
But sadly
Without any meaning nor any reason.
More funny dreams. Woking I think is a satellite town around London.
Nick Jan 2018
Under the Bridge, along the Promenade: we
walked with words trickling through our
waxy lips. Where the Seafront was all silk.
Where the Waxwings, sealed wax tips,
lumbered about the Empyrean yonder:
splayed upon a Canvas
of Sapphire and Azure.
Before the Starry Night has come.
Before we reached the Shore only to
Digress.
    "Liebe verleiht Flügel,"
I heard, or read in a Book.
The Streets are crimson rust;
The Spectators in Sanitariums watched
drab passersby. They shambled and
coughed admixt the crowded room, only
to find the Peristyle vacant and dead.
A Mantic Women, cards of dread,
stands on the corner; our
eyes catched, and She speaks:
    "Wo bist du?"
        "Wo bist du?"
            Louder and fists shaking:
    "Wo bist du?"
The buildings doddered, filled with
Cuscuta.
In Montauk, where we met, now withered,
covered in snow, I stood - my comportment
unsteady. Flashing in the distance I see
Point Light - Captain Kidd musing with his
Money Ponds - an Angel guiding wonderous
blights - The Recognitions, blimey,
Mr. Gaddis has gone blind - The Faustian
apotheosis abound -
The Streets are crimson rust
filled with dread.
Smelling of Jack-by-the-hedge -
I'm walking...
Noctivagant aura permeates -
Mich.
slight *****, but otherwise... positive pitch
re: without a hitch
the first innoculation approximately
five months prior also nary glitch.

Preemptive needling measure
regarding getting fully
immunized at CVS
(Zieglerville, Pennsylvania)13:08
military time May First
2020 bruised left arm update
status report regarding
preventive measure well worth

suspenseful interlude preliminary
delay imposed wait
while pharmacist at
aforementioned Consumer Value
Store (common everyday Joe)
bided time to cogitate
proactive decision to become

fully immunized against
Chickenpox, an infection
courtesy varicella zoster virus
later in life ditto bugaboo
can cause shingles reactivate
head by whim of ******
zoster the latter occurring late
adult life, neither rhyme,

nor reason weakened immune
system (possibly stress)
suddenly avails blimey candidate
to experience shingles tatted
telltale rash with radiating,
shooting, tingling pain

affecting one side of body decorate
ting once lovely fleshed
bones with red fluid filled blisters
said dry out pustules dry out
and crust over within seven to
ten days, which above
outbreak preceded by fever, chills,

and fever, whereby raised
pimply red Morse code a dash
of dots, (albeit raised) on skin,
and redness not to agitate
impossible mission (more
difficult then threading camel
thru eye of needle) tingling

under skin topping off slate
head symptoms with upset
stomach, no matter physician
(perhaps doctor tending one
after another family member
think Marcus Welby, M.D.,
Doctor Who, Doogie Howser...)

Nope, no cure for shingles,
but treatment can decrease rate
complications arise, postherpetic
neuralgia (condition affects
nerve fibers and skin, causing
burning painful state
lasting long after rash and
blisters of shingles disappear.

Unbeknownst why once
chicken pox runs rampantly askew
said subsequently taking
their furlough into nerve tissue
tinier, yet more mighty then
garden variety/generic bacteria

inexplicably "wake up" and
travel along nerve fibers moo
ving utterly uncowed wreaking
havoc as shingles re: ******
(dizz) zoster relentlessly
assaulting beastie boy/goo
goo doll as rapacious motley crew.

Please to report, I experience(d)
minimal adverse reactions such as,
redness, no swelling at the injection site,
yes muscle pain, tiredness, but
no headache, shivering, fever,
nor upset stomach plagued me
lovely skeletal musculature,
albeit generic healthy male.
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh *** Yet Of The

Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they **** instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans

formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one

heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.

Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered

shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Tyellow Brick Road.

Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or **** spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into

I gotta n itch) Lenin, where alien archeologists
from outer limits of the twilight zone unearthed
(com) bust stubble rubble yes likeness of Guy
Richie Rich Noir, whose couture, the best skid
row wardrobe.

He sported longish wavy (fluffy when washed
once every fort McHenry night), which character
wrist ticks evoked Chaplinesque down on his
luck Dickensian doddering dude, who cast an

immediate vagabond er dishabille, he happened
to be plenti none the poorer and ranked near
top Facebook listing of Forbes Plenty Of Fish
list, and whose trivial pursuit with flickr ring
idea to GoLong.

As a poet by fashioning his adversity into discord
ant clumps of clichés, facsimiles, idiomatic limply
mixed metaphors in a per verse manner reflecting a
discombobulated egghead delivered an ova night
fashionable fame, though syrup prize zing lee met
with profound success, and bore fruit of the loom

(one of his countless “FAKE” offspring’s begotten
unbeknownst to him iz this schlepper) constitutes
this blimey dorky and fluky guy, whose weakness
when communicating about extemporaneously usually
leaves the reader like totally tubularly confused like
ha cool and totally tubularly groovy man.
After beguiling charisma,
damnable excoriations fixedly,
gamely, horribly, insult jesting,
kibitzing, loosely mindless nattering,

outlandish pablum, quintessentially
representing senseless trumpeting,
unswervingly vapid wordy
X-DOUBLE-MINUS
yawping zest.

If ye did not already guess from thee
above blimey claptrap, Das English flap
doodle glib human incorporates jokingly,
kookily, laughably mashedup nonsensical,

oddly, peculiarly, questionably ridiculous,
spluttering total unintelligible virtually
witless Xmas yakking zany tripe
writes hello albeit as Abbott Long Winded.

This uneventful life of mine desperately
clings (nee plaintively begs cessation
from ****** condemnation since...well,
when alma mater of fact abracadabra magic)

assailed, thence rendered blinkered existence
moot. Prolongation experiencing sustained
nirvana, wrought pitiless cooptation diminishing
enlightened fruition. No matter impossible

to believe omniscient prediction nearly came
to naught. Instant karma graced ecstatic grandeur.
This abbreviated attestation cognitively laughable,
a mere figment of imagination. Ultimate acquisition

asper beholding heavenly jurisdiction limited to
infinitesimal immeasurable marginalization.
Representation allowing, enabling, and providing
sustained self actualization, a willow o the wisp

pipe dream visitation. Appetite whetted
via smidgen spiritual delectation. Now angelic
amplification, declaration, and glorification stymied,
and only briefly espied, when unfettered temptation

sensing an Indus scribe Hubble lucubrate fashioned
afterlife became accidentally accessible. Now???
Utter Pradesh futility, imbecility, and lunacy
to experience sublimation viz cosmic conscious

Creator! Impossible to lie prostrate, thence
whisper vis a vis instigation, intonation, and/or
invocation lamentably ordaining realization
sans, re cap cha, analogous to verboten fruit,

which similarly anointed, when faint approximation
(fulfilling fleeting fatherhood feint), the  
******* exaltation additionallygrounded.
Thus a blackened imprecation exponentially

fulminates, pestiferously quakes, and
sycophantically tortures purposely, viciously
increasesing prolongation of deprivation.
Despair erodes faithful generation formerly

harvesting insightful joyous kinship with long
lost loves. Salivation for salvation even pronounced
via declaration for crucifixion. Mine kismet grounded
spiritual gypped facilitation instills voluntary extradition.

This native American son willingly adopted
Alfred E. Neuman disguise. Outfitted thus,
while astride Red Baron (docile caparisoned horse),
I will sacrifice mortality surrendering selflessness

to trumpeting, and subsequent permanent deportation
among grateful dead, who defy condemnation
at the price of corporeal longevity. Hallelujahs,
hexameter hosannas, and hurrahs vocalized.

Transition thru divine gabled (invitation only)
dominion extolling democratization, a lifelong
(qua death short) aspiration alm ma LIX spittled
emotionally kudzu choked up existence. Now

blessed eternal peace handily given after thine
incessant pleading,whereat each outstretched palm
olive adrip with perspiration. Redemption (though
atheistic bent) effort likened to universalistic,

naturalistic, holistic, and cathartic balms despite
all this twaddle i.e. unnecessary verbalization,
sans obfuscation, jocular equivocation.
Translation even more onerous from this: Man
Hue Sscript!
Understandable dear reader,
     how this scribe bull lime
me bloke omitted mention of
     one bedroom flat as
reason nigh rote this rhyme

Ma faux pas faw axe pseudo dent lee
home hitting minor specific
     detail, minor crime
asper that subject, sans
     inspection against gritty grime,

and issuing citation
     if ***** sundry safety
     transgressions heron hot in Prime  
tip top order, whence
     (looming appointed date

     management undertakes
     requisite edifice complex inspection
     unwittingly doth find
     mine anxiety increasing ferret time
at Highland Manor
     Apartments twill make
their nada so merry go rounds!)

Dum...dum...dum...dum...DUH -
     anxiety shot thru stratosphere upon
     good news notification aboot
a fortnight from this last
     Friday of August tooth

     house sand date teen,
     rankling the body
     electric sans this "FAKE" ole coot
which panic stricken state
     (as iterated above),

     where quiet listening affected
     (with eyes shut wide)
     Mozart's The Magic Flute
hearing such melodic notes
     while lying sue

     pine versus sitting
     upon me comfort
     ably numb glute
if attuned to said renown composer,
     whose name familiar

     'round the world wide web,
     where his person posthumously
     rings up substantial loot,
yet such rambling moot,
when priority must first

     and foremost doth attend,
asper tidying up
     apartment, cuz inspection
     just around the bend
thus also a prayer would be

     appreciated (by this atheist)
     and/or juiced an email friend
e'en keeping limitation,
     i.e. sharing trained,
     unwavering, vaunted, wishing,

     yearning for zesty gerund
forming relationship to
     the maximum reciprocity,
     thee world wide web doth lend
no...no...no...NOT focused

     on anything greater,
     than heartfelt succor, asper
     tear riff hick
     genuine fantastic Earthling
     my darned cruel blimey

     soc erratic angst to mend,
though married, tis
     resplendent dear people
     scattered far and wide
courtesy of the internet,

     one can ride
upon the information
     super highway with pride
minus prejudice and
     trusty Google as guide,
perhaps...even fostering,
     kickstarting, and ushering
     online groom and/or bartered bride.
Two fatal head on
     deadly automobile accidents
     in quick succession at
     Zieglerville, Pennsylvania
     poetic traffic circle
     killed me twice today,
this communique notated, recorded,
     and transcribed adieu "say"

je nais sais quois eh
by divine angels, who aided
this deceased jay
bird, said winged
     saviors didst sashay
in mine close proximity, this lifeless
     badly damaged body
     sprawled on the road,

when just by the "FAKE"
     skin of my...er...dentures,
     I **** invisibly
     whisked toward unearthly safety,
     and (just in the nick
     of time before corpse
     of mine thorough lay
underwent aught top say),

this generic *****
     donor and eBay
trader found himself shunted
     into an expansive
     cerebral, cerulean,
     and celestial heavenly
     gate atmospheric quay
king cosmic arena,

     where Cupids practiced play
ying getting strangers lovestruck
     when rehearsals debuted, yay
nearly finding this
     wordsmith spell bound
     yours truly with a may
zing starry eyed,
     and stir craze zee,

the first female
     (coincidentally, a head
     over heels teenage crush)
aye didst yip ***
mon decaying flesh
     felt WOWed, cuz she
never looked better re:
eternally sleeping with her

     stone face, prithee
one, where death be
     not proud did justice,
     yet rules forbid fraternizing
     with deceased, nee
     (repudiating no exceptions
     against gender bending
     strictures) amidst soul asylum,

     could witness punishment, nay
saying of guilty party landing
squarely into jailed
     into the absolute
     worst hellish clinker
     back to the future as
     joining every other
     mere mortal upon Earth,

     next best option offered
     aside from (undying soul
     reveling in immortality),
     would be fate offered,
     by Scott, sans the blimey
(hen pecking) road

     less traveled me
disappointing fate,
     where alternative possibility,
chosen minus collisions, and
     absent adolescent
     post mortem inamorata.
there seems to be an echoing a glitch in proceedings

so we came in the back way and exclaimed like blimey

there will probably be much of this with all this being

static like some caravans

and other mobile things

— The End —