Hello goodmorning
Today for calling
So low so snoring
I wonder why we say good morning

Tonight in your place
I help you like im waze
In honesty been daze
I can tell your tired for some days

Get back in bed
Few minutes before Wed
I know it's still a more hours from my bill
But I'll see you right through
Because of my choice of do
So take dudette and dude
Across the globe I'll help you too.

A yell for the child comes with momentum
It shakes a creak out of each elderly step and surrounding glass fixture
Wailing wakes the set of mahogany stairs before stopping at the moat of the dudette’s dungeon

Kaboom, it kicked the door in on the dream

Enter a flow of sunlight
Now visible dancing off the sweaty leaves and onto the walls of the hallway
Leaping onto the eyelids of our beholder
She turns to face the wall
This empty vessel isn't ready

The yelling quickly becomes relevant
As it Sharpens into an irritating spear  
Creating unwanted foramen
Making mesh out of the impermeable cushion enveloping the chrysalised girl

The parent is a lackluster alarm clock that she bought
But still wants to beat the **** out of.
Though they serve their purpose
the half conscious tend to be ungrateful

A smile breaks open now
knowing such noxious noise is futile Fighting the lull that was already present in the room.

Going through the first motions her feet find a base
and her socks slide dangerously over splinters and thornish nails peaking out of the floorboards
The drums of her feet meeting the stairs announce her arrival.

On the first floor there awaits a vision of her childhood
Her father watching programs and eating breakfast with Charles Osgood and his correspondents
Mother making moves towards the car.

She’s surprised
The sweet smell tricked the girl into believing adventure land had been relocated to her kitchen.


She witnesses Bands of fibrous smoke slide off of the bacon
And harden as happiness on the rims of her nostrils
Her hunger whispers clear thoughts and primitive instincts from her core
And a shell of rubber pellets is released to ricochet around in the girls belly like a couple of quarters in a piggy bank -
Wants reverberate and drive up her throat
Driving her hands to the cooler of the three tired skillets

She does a quick but thorough survey of the stove top eyes hitting every grease patch and
Yellow egg puddle worth avoiding

Sitting at the galaxy black table
Jaw tensing against its will
Gums sweating and shocked anxious
Tastebuds wiggling into the room left available by the imagination
Eager on ripping into fattening pleasure

Osgood leads them into their moment of Zen to be ended at the pace of the subject
Father different from daughter
Daughter different than the mother.

i like ellen degenerous cause she is a cool party dude

she dances at the start of her show

and gives prizes especially for the poor

she introduces a lot of young performers

giving them their first big break

her show is entertaining oh yeah it is

ellen is a lesbian, but who cares, she is entertaining

i am not a homophobe, i believe in watching shows

instead of judging opeople on these shows

ellen degenerous is a cool dudette

her sow is packed with entertainment

and she dances like nothing else

she gives away a lot of prizes

yeah she is rad she is rad

she helps the poor

she shelps the young

if anyone is cool, it’s because of her

if i had a show on TV, it’ll be just like hers

ellen degenerous for PM, of coolville

I suppose it's alright if you don't reciprocate.

I am deeply familiar with the inner workings of love and hate.

More than you think, I understand your position.

Is one I've been in, and don't find myself missing.





Just know I'll be there for you.

I'll know when and when not to care for you.

When to share with you.

And if you leave.. I might despair... I'll miss you.





However, don't let my pursuit of happiness derail yours.

Nor should I change your details or more.

I guess my path is to help create your happiness.

Even if I'm not in that, it's none the less.





All I ask is that you consider.

I've grown around all breeds.

When I see one, I know an elixer.

I might not be yours, however, that doesn't mean YOU don't fulfill MY needs.





I'm sorry for any pain or conflict.

I'm sorry that I'm not gone yet.

I'm sorry that I must fulfill my promise.

I am NOT sorry for how I feel.





This is real, unfiltered and unfettered.

Perhaps this way is really better.

I don't expect I or you to change.

Please know, I Am NOT just another page.





Nor another paragraph.

And perhaps I'm being brash...

I don't think so.

I'd ask for chapters or a novel written by your pencil.





And maybe I'm drunk.

Possibly I'm dumb.

Certainly I'm numb.

But That's why I can't ignore this feeling I call love.





**** it. I am dumb.

Probably means what I feel is wrong.

I must be just like the others, shuffling along.

Wanting something that I wish was mine but wasn't all along.





I mustn't know your true needs and wants.

Otherwise I wouldn't feel this incessant need to talk.

I want to delve deeper, trust me I do care.

I don't trust people ***** nilly, just here and there.





Maybe I don't know what I need.

Possibly you don't either.

But you're the only one whose got me writing poetry.

So I will die in this battle, because I am a true fighter.





I see the marks on your arm, on your body.

I have them too... by another name, on my soul.

You aren't nobody.

I want you to know.





For me loyalty and trust are king.

You should know, that's why I haven't made a scene.

I have too much respect, even if sometimes it seems unseen.

Truly, I am sorry... I do believe.





Like a true scorpio... Complicated, that's what I am.

I don't expect, or necessarily want you to understand.

If I believe you, you should me.

I'll be those singular tracks in the sand.





Listen, dudette... I know you prefer that.

I wouldn't do that...

That being: whatever... whomever hurt you.

I only want to learn from you.





So please... Get your **** together.

Quit ******* around.

Stay in my head.

Because I enjoy having you around.





Is it selfish of me to ask this?

Maybe not theoretically, possibly in practice.

If you're still unsure to whom I'm bleeding  my heart out with all this talking...

All you'll have to do is count the number of quatrains... Truly this is what I mean... even if you're only...

for me, the beginning & end of all comic book movies begins & ends with Unbreakable... i really don't need to see any other comic book movie, i'm tired of this infantilizing... i'll watch them... but... Unbreakable hits the mark, hell... the whole trilogy does... Split was just as good, Glass to boot... what's the alternative? some... Bergman?! some... Bell, Book & Candle from 1959... starring Kim Novak... the original take on The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947)... Roman Polanski's The Ninth Gate... Unbreakable resonates with me... perhaps not so much the movie... the soundtrack... the soundtrack always grows on me... esp. since now i'm performing a security job at football stadiums...

that Dalmatian punch up with myself really did help
today... ooh ooh... oh... the bruise...
perception is everything: to appear as X...
without disclosing Y is key...
i wasn't lying though...
i just didn't brag about it...
sure... a Dalmatian patch of plum on my left eye...
which i self-inflicted...
well... it made me look more dashing...
i don't think i've ever managed so many
women look at me with so much
attention to clarify, ahem, "something"...
it was only a short shift... 4 hours at Oxford...
but, getting to Oxford & back...
left Romford at circa 3pm... only got back
home at... circa 1am...
and what better way to spend the end of a shift
than... drinking and scribbling doodles?
i don't even want to think that i'm
writing anything meaningful,
i just want to write in order for the per se
experience... i stopped thinking narratively
a long time ago...
that res cogitans / res narratio / narrandus /
                      narratus... in the realm of the original?
of the thinking thing?
that person died...
ergo? i have to go into the realm of
the res extensa: the extended thing...
i do my "thinking" by writing...
writing is an extension of my "thinking": or, rather...
my cognitive-deprivation is nothing more than...
me... stretching a rubber-band...
waiting for a moment to snap it...
i absorb experiences & later transform them
into scribbles...
on the way to Oxford... Dan: the 6ft5 "viking"...
big man Dan...
no... he's not being a **** about it...
he's just fiddling with the space made available
to him... i'm still bewildered by his...
ability to split attention between texting
while driving, texting, eating something & driving...
at least he stopped being twitchy with his
personal music choices... safe man...
decided to switch radio stations...
i sort of think he's starting to like me...
at the induction he folded my hood so that the word
STEWARD printed on a high-viz. could be made
visible... then took a picture...
posted it on the company's social media website...
then unrolled my hood...
there was no chance for a handshake
when we ****** off back to Romford...
so i put a hand on his shoulder with the words:
thank you & may you have a good night...
my Turkish barber already used me for one
of those: BEFORE & AFTER photographs
for his up-and-coming social media presence...
you'd think i might have gotten a free haircut for my...
ahem... "modelling" efforts...
no matter... i'm not here for the money...
i don't have a wife, i don't have children...
oh... but the best children to have: are the ones
that aren't your own...
perhaps that's different for women...
but... as a man... i'm falling in love with these *******
gremlins!
like today... at the turnstiles...
clocked in 252 people walking through my gate...
didn't have a scanner... just a clicker...
one poor dad implored me to let him through...
he had his seasonal pass... his son forgot his...
i winked... sure... see no evil, hear no evil... speak no evil...
but this other father & 4 teenage girls...
exact words: her, dude!
how's your day been...
that ******* Dalmatian eye-patch must have
given me away...
oh hey Dudette! how's you?
god almighty! give me dogs, give me cats,
give me children... give me the charge of Abraham's *****!
but don't... think... you'll satiate my
taste for eternity... with a ******* HAREM!
no! *******, right now!
while you're still standing... ******* with the harem...
right now...
call it the wisdom of king Solomon i'll call it:
the miseries of king Solomon...
king David was happier among his *******
psalms than in any presence of a woman...
*******, right now...

cats, dogs, children... & a curiosity for eternity...
no... no women...

but that's the great thing about going mad
in your early 20s... from smoking some ****...
&... hearing a choir or singers...
in an empty church, dispersed,
to the best of my ability: by an arching wind...
a breath that utters no words
yet utters a tornado...
you can't go mad, twice! it's a double jeopardy case...

- we were on our way for a shift at Oxford football ground...
4 guys and 2 girls...
obviously the girls were ******* talkative...
breaking of the ice, Titanic, blah blah this...
blah blah that...
at the grounds conversation took turn to height...
Dan 6ft5, moi 6ft2... some girl... argued against
being 5ft11... hair as green, fluorescent as any...
generic... woke brigade alphabet soup spew
****** local "diacritical with a *****" might come across:
outside a working environment...

one "Viking" here, another there...
oh, but one of the girls in our commute was acting odd...
how did i get my Dalmatian's patch?
i'm not going to brag...
how old are you?
i'm getting a cab back home, you want to share?
she nervously joked until i choked on my own
presence: stop trying to hold me hand...
you want to hold my hand?
she just offered me a ******* gelatin sweet...
i was donning my jacket as if i had my arm broken...
i'm hot, i'm sweating... well... you're sitting
next to a furnace...
is this broad hitting on me...
oh, great... what's available?
the Ancient Roman scenario of fathering
******* children...
if these are are my peers...
how unlucky i am...
the ones that have managed to reproduce...
this broad gaining ground on me...
her ex was... is... an alcoholic... so obviously
she's raising... 3 brats all on her own...
this other broad was ***** by her ex...
well, sure... great... stories... life's messy...
why did entertaining psychosis suddenly leave me...
so in-tune with being organised aged 35?

if you can handle a crowd of rowdy football hooligans...
in the long run... i can still do this on the side...
but... here's to me getting some references
and endeavour a role as a chemistry teacher...
i can't even brag about it...
you don a Dalmatian patch for your eye
for... they will never have guessed i was
having an argument with my shadow,
that i had a fight with my shadow...
well; that i punched myself...

from the turnstiles to the segue between the home
supporters & the visiting supporters...
as i already remarked...
it might only haven been Wimbledon AFC...
but it was a southern team...
those ******* ***** from Wigan (Athletic)...
fellow coworker even remarked:
must be something in the air...
point being, the further north you go in England...
the more... religiosity you experience...
all the London folk are tame...
i actually received a handshake from a father
& his son... at one point the son implored his father:
can i go up into the higher stands & chant
with the "hooligans"...
everyone seemed so well behaved, though...
well **** me Jeremy Cricket!

maybe i should lay off the employment & support
allowance that i fuelled my writing ambitions
with... focus more on the security job prospects...
then think about the reference & get a position
in a school teaching... chemistry!
sounds like a plan...

however... men... working alongside women...
on the way back the silence was almost choking her...
4 guys, 1 girl... oh but she's a big girl...
she was an almost... fantasy fetish of a...
no, not an ava lauren... more akin to...
i forget... i don't want to remember...
hold my hand insinuation...
want to take a taxi back with me...
how old are you...
i thought we were simply working together?
work's best:
when you ask the least amount of...
disclosing answers, don't you think? no?
no, that's not how this modern take
of woman! BUFF! BEEFED UP work, like?
oh, sure sure... she's the ******* heavyweight belt of
weightlifting all of a sudden & i'm supposed
to take on the "feelz" of ******* Tinkerbell!

the end.

especially bombardment of online scare tactics
courtesy fiendish insidious loathsome sinister oafs
rubbing their hands at aggrieved party;
punch drunk cyber thieves ecstatic
acquiring by hook and/or crook
sought after precious, priceless, and proverbial data
after loosed ransomware forces capitulation.

yours truly naïveté found him aghast
when some fly by night virtual ruffians cost
him a pretty penny, more so total cents
minus sensibility stole pride without prejudice
(to the tune of $598.99) embossed
upon his psychological state
such temerity ye possibly evinced,
he recently poetically glossed.

the sonsabitches running amuck across
webbed wide world
obviously regard innocent victims as dross
acquiring cachet among fellow den of thieves
at expense of those miscreants
inflicting unnecessary suffering,
their unscrupulous, nefarious, and gregarious
predatory ways and means gross
negligence of inadequate punishment
regarding criminal behavior
of course impossible mission
to trace internet route
hacked out by faceless, nameless, xyz
brazen foo fighting interlopers
physical location nets absolute zero
results, where well their guarded identity
kept under wraps.

even being ever so mindful to steer clear
(by at least a bajillion miles)
of websites designated unsecure my worst fear
as pertains to getting snagged
by self taught sophisticated mutineers interfere
with enjoying plethora of resources
available at the mere touch of keystroke
or two, or three, or four...
forced into a horrible nightmare scenario
where rival hooligans
best macabre creation of Stephen King
namely high flying plane story
featuring more'n one beastie boy langolier;

they rank as medium-sized globular creatures
consisting almost entirely
of a huge sharp-toothed maw
described as "time keepers" and inhabit
a temporal realm
usually unreachable by human senses,
to which non-living matter drifts
into as linear timeline
advances from present to future.

above fictional creation
share similar destructive trait
with said actual accursed
demonic evil incarnate
species of inhuman nasty brutes
purveyors of malware to the highest bidders
indiscriminately kindle linkedin
dudes and "dudette" or "dudess,"
the female reference
for bro out of parlance
friend finder applications to overhear
albeit telepathically establish racketeer.

even if unilingual wordsmith
writer of this reasonable rhyme
possessed wherewithal to infiltrate
countless electronic hubs
constituting the realm
of cosmic consciousness
(peopled with gamut
of pinteresting opportunistic folks
some similar to one garden variety
hybridized **** sapien,
whose genealogical lineage
actually considerably expanded

when eldest sister of mine
in conjunction with first cousin
thru paternal branch
enlisted collective information
accessible thru 23andMe
allowing, enabling, and providing
insight into our family tree),
he would feel disinclined
to wreak havoc
plunging headlong into accounts
clouding domain of other's binary province.