Jeremy Duff woke up as he usually does on a Tuesday morning.
With the alarm clock blaring he lifted his right arm from off his wife's chest.
He stood up, covered his wife's bare torso with the purple, fuzzy, comforter and walked to the bathroom, naked.
He turned on the sink so hot water would begin to pour out.
After completing his usual morning routine of shaving, dressing, smoking, and eating, respectively, Jeremy began his walk to work.
It was, on a typical day, and this was a typical day,  a twelve minute walk.
He lit a cigarette the moment his feet hit the sidewalk. It was the first of, on a typical day, thirty-eight.
Jeremy worked on the 27th floor, which he thought of as funny as he pressed the "27" button, as he did on any typical day. His job was to edit spelling on essays before they would be turned in for final inspection. Then, as his boss put it, if the writers were lucky, they would see the essays in the next issue of Story Magazine.
He sat down in his office, lit his third cigarette of the day, and looked at the large stack of papers in front of him. If he was lucky, Jeremy thought, he could get halfway through the stack and take his 10 early, to see his wife. The first one on the stack was entitled "The Young Folks." It had a blue sticky note on it reading "Vignette, Salinger, Jerome David, 1,794 words."
Jeremy read it, purely aesthetically, looking only for spelling mistakes. Finding none, he put a quick check on the blue sticky note. Mr. Duff lit his 5th cigarette and read the story again. It was phenomenal. He read it a third time, while smoking his 6th cigarette. Jeremy finished the first half of the stack and lit his 9th cigarette. He grabbed the story by Salinger and began his walk home. His wife greeted him at the door with kisses. He showed her the story. She read it, read it again and told him it was great. She just didn't understand, Mr. Duff thought.

Holden Caulfield
2. That movie that I saw last weekend that I thought you would like
3. The mix tapes you made me. I still listen to them in my car
4. The way I dance and wondering if you would like it if you saw me.
5. The Kooks and how you hate them.
6. Hospice
7. Late nights sleeping alone and knowing you're awake, but oh so silent.
8. Wondering if you're thinking about me too
9. The poems you wrote me. Your handwriting is classy.
10. The picture of Hilary Duff on my desk reminding me to be good
11. My bed and how you used to be there.
12. My friends and how you used to be one of them
13. Uptown
14. My ticklish spots that no longer get touched
15. My cat... he misses you.
16. Speaking Spanish and how you used to correct it, and sometimes be impressed
17. Wearing bows in my hair. How you used to love them.
18. The clothes I bought at that thrift store yesterday. I wonder if you'd like them.
19. Mehermahermahermaherm
20. Listening to Bright Eyes.
21. Listening to the sound of loneliness.
22. Coffee and how you say "Americano" with a roll of the tongue.
23. The last bit in my tea and how it's "too sweet to swallow."
24. Sitting close on the couch. Your hand stroking mine. Sneaking a kiss on the cheek.
25. Missing busses and missing you.
26. How I used to cheer you up.
27. The stars and sheep and roses.
28. Seth Rogan
29. Meditating and how I can't do it with you constantly clogging up my brain.
30. Laughing
31. I never learned to salsa dance with you and your brutally honest hips.
32. Carrot Creme Brulee
33. Hand dance duets
34. The empty spaces between my fingers
35. Your grey corduroy pants are my favorite.
36. When you called me your coriño.
37. How you would have scoffed at me copying and pasting an "ñ".
38. Attempting to show you music you would like.
39. Failing at showing you music you like.
40. Sending you hearts.
41. Arching my back.
42. Eating ice cream and how I'm better when it's here.
43. How I'm better when you're here.
44. How Cory is better when Topanga is there.
45. Italian Night Clubs
46. You and Me and Everyone We Know
47. Tyronne Street
48. Ice Land
49. Getting lost.
50. Drunken parties and thrashing fists.
51. Second chances
52. Being half of something.
53. Wearing your cardigan
54. Long embraces and never wanting to move.
55. Doing my homework with you sitting next to me. Not letting you read over my shoulder
56. Teaching you about the body.
57. Your smile, and how you give a little chuckle every time I see it.
58. How we used to laugh about nothing.
59. Really bad cookies.
60. Butter face.
61. Jealousy
62. Hating modernized Shakespeare
63. Confessions
64. Embarrassed faces buried in pillows
65. Incredulous about me hating Elvis
66. Miles ******* Davis
67. Singing softly to the radio
68. Playing the piano. Singing for you when you're not around.
69. Wondering if you're reading this right now.
70. Hoping that you've gotten this far down the list.
71. Be the Pitta to my Vata
72. Kate Upton has saggy *****.
73. I just want to make spaghetti with you.
74. How you hate ellipsis
75. Wondering whether or not I spelled that correctly because I know you would judge.
77. Leaving tearful voice-mails
78. John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Rolling Stone cover
79. Looking at art, wishing I was Monet.
80. My sundress on the floor.
81. Not seeing that new movie in theaters (the one that won all those Oscars) because I only want to see it with you.
82. Getting angry when Kacie B. didn't get the rose on the Bachelor and knowing you're angry too because Courtney ***** as a person.
83. I'm an ugly crier.
84. Hitting bread pans
85. Your green plaid jacket
86. Vulgarity
87. Insecurity
88. "Back and forth. Forever."
89. How that one song reminds you of me and I still don't know why.
90. How you deserve the best
91. It makes me sad that I'm at number 91 and you're still nowhere to be found.
92. Going to ballet class with the anticipation of seeing you afterward.
93. You asking me how ballet was, whether you were interested or not.
94. whispers "Let me be your hero."
95. Never seeing your fur vest.
96. Holding hands when we shouldn't have.
97. Velvet leggings
98. The last wonder of the world.
99. I fear that I will forget what your face looks like.
100. Reaching one-hundred with so much more to say.

BEAUTY
So maybe it was okay to joke about it,
Laugh about how we'll work hard, be successful,
And get plastic surgery,
But deep down it still hurts.

So we rampage through the first aid kit for drugs to get us high on self esteem,
We compare ourselves to the main chick,
complain about how we are the duff and the side chick.

They say the grass is greener on the other side,
So why keep looking at the main house?
When all you need is in your own home.

Cause they may not think we are pretty
They may place us after that girl
To them we might be the 'oh yeah you are pretty too'
But its okay.

We've been through enough pain already
And pretty hurts so we'll rather be beautiful.

Fractured Fairytales, Part Two,
A sordid little tale for you.......
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Lil' Red Riding Hood,
Alone in the woods,
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Who is this stranger?
It's the Park Ranger!
Is he up to no good?
Prowling around in the woods?
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Lil' Red Riding Hood,
Alone in the woods,
He's thrown away her phone,
Now Lil' Hood is not alone,
Now he's up to good,
Bad news for Lil' Red  Riding Hood,
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Bad Park Ranger!
Stranger Danger!
He's turned her into a ****,
Now he's got her up the duff,
Stranger Danger!
Bad Park Ranger!
Now she's a single mother,
Should have had a better mother,
Letting her walk alone in the woods,
Bad handsome Park Ranger,
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
A sordid little verse for you,
That was Fractured Fairytales, Part Two.

The television is getting worse, I have noticed on its viewing
What the **** is going on, what do you think your doing ?
Maybe its ungrateful, but our minds are just left stewing
Why must people endure repeats, through years of program queuing?
An example is the game shows, there on every side just brewing
We're paying for the privilege, its the public that your *******

We don't want Deal Or No Deal, with all those crap crisp boxes
Q.I. is not that interesting, it has too many paradoxes
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire ? is that just a stupid question?
I would love to Strike It Lucky, so what is your suggestion?

Pointless has the correct name, cos that's exactly what it is
Has Jasper Carrot got Golden *****, or is he *******
Why is there ***** Money, did they ran out of toilet tissues
Julian Clary had Sticky Moments, and outrageous camping issues

Whenever Opportunity Knocks, well just open the door
If your going to Take Me Out, then what are you waiting for?
Don't Name That Tune In One, I'd rather hear it all
A Question Of Sport is so boring, its hardly on the ball

Is it the Weakest Link, because the chain is full of rust?
Didn't Blockbusters close down, and the video shop go bust ?
Why Should I Supermarket Sweep, Dale can sweep it himself
The pyramid Game is just, an apex polyhedron triangular shelf

I Don't want to go on Mastermind, and look like a ******* fool
If I went Through The Keyhole, then I must be minuscule
Why Would I Lie To You? wouldn't that be a bit two faced
I'm not sure if Celebrity Squares, are really all straight laced?
Could you please repeat yourself, I did not Catch that Phrase
Just how many crystals where there, in the Crystal Maze?

Was Spin Star cancelled, because celebrities where break dancing
Or was it Bradley Walsh's giant fruit, that needed some enhancing?
Why is it called The Chase, when there's no chasing involved?
The Chasers are sat on there arses, so The Chase is never solved

I don't think it is the Wheel Of Fortune, even if you do
You don't really get much fortune, till you solve the final clue
Paul Daniels said Every Second Counts, so forget the introductions
Just get on with the game play, don't even bother with instructions

Philip Schofield played with Five Gold Rings, isn't that just wrong
I thought that Five Gold Rings, belonged to a Christmas song
Ted Rogers read such stupid clues, it made it hard to win
No wonder 3.2.1 contestants, usually won poor Dusty Bin

I would really love to drink, some of that Celebrity Juice
But first I'll have to find out, which ones are tight or loose
I'm not lucky enough to have 300 Blanks, with a lovely lady in a bed
I'll have to hand it to myself, and have a Blankety Blank instead

Mr & Mrs is outdated, most Marriages are not enforced
Those couples who where happy once, are probably divorced
Treasure Hunt used a Helicopter, clues found by Anneka Rice
She ran around quite frantically, but her **** was rather nice

Isn't Ann Widdecombe a dark horse, she liked a Cleverdick
I Suspect if she had the chance, she'd like a **** that's thick
There used to be Telly Addicts, but now they are history
We no longer want Noel Edmunds, or crap games on our TV

Poor Bully tried to play Darts, but his aim was far to high
It isn't all that great or Super, missing the Bullseye
Come on now Jim its not fare, making the contestants cry
To look at what you could have won, and kiss the prize goodbye

Naked Jungle was a one off, Keith Chegwin in the buff
I'm glad it did not continue, so please don't Call My Bluff
Countdown has been on for years, we've had a ****** enough
Only Connect and 15 to 1, are hard and far too tough

Family fortunes and Eggheads, we don't want all this stuff
Fort Boyard and Mock The Week, stick them up you chuff
Going For Gold and Gladiators, too old and looking rough
University Challenge and Impossible, there really dull and duff

Never Mind The Buzzcocks, it's a forgotten piece of Fluff
Crosswits and Chain Letters, should be dragged of by the scuff
Hole in the wall and Alphabetical, are so right of the cuff
The Cube and The Million Pound Drop, I'd walk of in a huff

Many game shows throughout the years, all needed a good host
But there isn't any spontaneity, so none of them can boast
Instead of reading from a script,and acting liked their dosed
Take the plunge make it your own, don't be a mindless ghost
Why don't hosts try to be their best, and try to be their most
Wouldn't it make more sense, to keep your audience engrossed

Ben Shepherd comes to mind, he doesn't seem all there
With his ****** expressions, weird smile and stupid stare
How did he become a host, was it all based on a dare
Why is his act robotic, its more than we can bare

Its like watching a recording, this isn't really fare
If we are subjected to this crap, then we deserve a share
I guess its our misfortune, its enough to make you swear
We're already at our Tipping Point, so we no longer care

Now I'm not saying that every host, is as bad as old Ben Shep
In fact there is at least one guy,who has a better Rep
He may not be a large man, in fact he played a Lep
But at least he isn't wooden, and he's with you every step

Warwick Davis's Act is Tenable, and he has not compromised
With good hosting skills, jokes and quips Warwick has realized
Although I'm not a game show fan, I am pleasantly surprised
He stands tall over the other hosts, even though he is pintsized

Why keep making game shows, was there a voting pole?
I believe there are too many, they are so ******* droll
As bad as all reality, the schedules they both stole
Axe the ******* lot of them, and chuck them down a hole

Just take a look at Brucie, may god rest his soul
He was around for decades, and hosting was role
Taking over all the shows, seemed to be old Brucie's goal
The years weren't kind to old Bruce, they definitely took there toll

There is a Brucie Bonus, available for every Generation
All you really needed, was the right kind of motivation
Nice to see you to see you nice, was Bruce's obligation
Life was the name of the game, in a family situation

A cuddly toy on a conveyer belt, in a prize observation
Didn't he do well all, depends on your own determination
If You Play Your Cards Right, Dollies Dealing a sensation
You don't get anything for a pair, maybe its infatuation

You can freeze but you cant stick, all dealt in isolation
Do you want to bet on it, was a gambling invitation
The price was always right, just use your imagination
Come on down to old Bruce, win a car and a vacation

Maybe he's a legend, with Bruce's game show graduation
A chance to host a new show, a Good Game realization
What's on the board miss ford, moving on to a new creation
It turned camp when they shut that door, and hired Larry Grayson

What was it with Bruce Forsyth, he was far too keen
He monopolised the hosting, on the game show scene
Seizing every opportunity, ever since he was fourteen
Just like Command and Conqueror, on the TV screen
He took on all the game shows, maybe he's just mean
But I cant help but to wander, where else has he been?

With all of his catchphrases, and a chin that was obscene
A wig that was like shredded wheat, it never should be seen
I don't know if I'm being harsh, it maybe his routine
And its all in his makeup, and part of Bruce's gene
Perhaps he liked the studio, and had too much caffeine
Along with the all dodgy food, in the BBC canteen

Now Challenge screens the game shows, but there all so ******* old
We've already seen all these games, they've already all been sold
I do not mean to sound too flippant, but why wont you be told
Your sending your viewers up the wall, and your audiences cold
Now let me state what's obvious, I hope I am not too bold
We don't want all these rehashed games, there hardly TV gold

This is for the homies,
For the ones that have been through it all.
for the ones that have been here for so long.
For the ones that will share their ball.
The ones that will hit the ****.
For the ones that I can call,
any day and any time.
For the ones that are tall
and the ones that are small.
And for the ones that one day will be king.
For the ones that can't sing, and the ones that can.

For all the memories we had,
not a single one of them bad.
Our friendship was hopefully not a fad,
cause then I would be sad.

Good-byes are hard,
Good-byes do ****.
They can leave you scarred,
but won't with any luck.

I will miss all of you,
and cannot say it enough.  
On the day I leave the only sound will be a sad bird's coo.
if only there was time to drink some Duff.

That is all I can think of, and it is all true.  I will miss you all and hope to see you all again.  Don't forget to keep funkin' for fun.  Until we meet again homies, remember that I love you all and hope you will always be happy.  That there will be no more problems and no more regrets.  Keep a smile on your face and don't let anything keep you down.  Good-bye Homies, hopefully not forever.

"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."

Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
    Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
    Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
    Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your ***?
    How do you melt the multy swag?
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
    Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
    Pad with a slang, or chuck a ***;
    Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot;
    You can not bank a single stag;
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

Suppose you try a different tack,
    And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
    Or with the mummers mug and gag?
    For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!
At any graft, no matter what,
    Your merry goblins soon stravag:
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

THE MORAL
    It's up the spout and Charley Wag
With wipes and tickers and what not.
    Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

Remnants
  of a plastic world
    haphazardly dropped
      in the duff of pinecones and bracken
        litter this redwood path.

Our thoughtless leavings -
  shiny mylar strings
    and red straws -
      must sadden the bluejays
         watching from hidden branches.

I tried not to look at it,
But I couldn't help myself,
The blue sky burying me completely,
The sun shedding visibility
On the edible chanterelles--
Little fungi, little mold spores
Treated as food, soft and porous
Sponges, fragile like egg shells.
We hunt for the orange gleam
Showing through the duff
As if we are savages,
Lost in our search,
Forgetting our state.

I'd forgotten what a sight they were:
Unfunny clowns always having
Arguments over who gets what space--
Quality family time.
Every home is a miniature dictatorship.

Now, savages rule our thoughts
And actions; they fight
For control;  they
Pump Estrogen into our
System so that we
Will not fight back.
The dream is not a dream.
The Police are a privilege
For those who can buy it.

All this was a week after
The dust settled. There was no music.
Even the chants of Buddhists
Were silenced, the replacing hum
One of screams
And gunshots.
The sound of
Your enemies being sautéed
Is what loss truly is:
Accounts holding our Humanity
Have been depleted.
The only unclosed door
Leads to Egypt.

When I think of it now,
What I remember is
Debt. Once, I saw
A college student
Buying cheap ramen
With a grin.

And, in a dream once,
There was no sound,
No color. Everything
Was the same—taste,
Touch, smell. Red lipstick marks
On a shirt would not
Remain. And hippies,
With their tie-dye clothes
Were just working stiffs,
Looking out a window
To see
Brick and mortar.

They say,
“This is your police state.
This is your Haunted House,
Your personal Winchester House
With no exits. This is
Your nightmare,
Your stench.
These are your maggots in your eyes.
This is what you want.”
We listen.

I do not want to be
The kind of person
Who makes it okay
To want to die.

Am I ... alone ... ???
to be ... sick of these texts ... !!!

NOT ... text in books ... !!!
but ... telephone texts ... !?!

Text me this ...Text me that
if you text ... i'll text back

This texting ... has got people ...
Fighting like ... " Cats " ... !!!

If you're ... gonna send texts
Try ... READING ... my text ...
Before ... getting upset ... !!!

cos the words of my text
are making you ... " FRET " ... !!!

Or ... in the case of my ex ...
" Maybe " ... getting you wet ... ?!?

Here's how my text went....

"Okay if it suits
but i'm still loving you !
Kiss Kiss, from your lips,
to your, beautiful ****,
and finally kisses,
all over your **** !
Babe i'm missing you still
but distance for sure
is a real bitter pill !"

the reply that iI got was simply ...

... " F* Off ! " ...

Now this was a shock !!!
but ... not to my ... socks ... !!!

More ...
A feeling of ... HEAT ... !!!
cos maybe ... my text
made my ex ... start to leak ... ???

Now girls ...
Don't be ... Wetting ...
bedcovers ... or sheets ...
cos' words that i'm using
DEFINE ... " ****** Peaks " ... !!!

It's merely a ... Text ...
that got my ex ... VEX ... !!!
but why ... ???
cos my words ...
referred to her ... chest ...
Her Chest ... was the ... BEST ... !!!!!

" Natural DD's "

HELL YES ... it was nice ...
when I gave them a squeeze ... !!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes ... having *** ...
made my chest start to .... " Wheeze " .... !!!!!

But now ... She's Flown ...
like a bird ... on a breeze ...

So now i'm ... " Enjoying " ...
My Own ... company ...

Doing ...

WHAT I PLEASE ... !!!!!

cos' fellas ... You Know ...
Most Girls ... give you ... " GRIEF " ... !!!!!!

That's something ... a woman ...
Will give you for ... FREE ... !!!!!!!!!!!

So texting is something
I DON'T ... want to see ... !!!
cos' women ... now use it ...
like ... Woods uses tees ... !!!!

to .... SMASH ....
Your new golf ball
right into ... " The Trees " ... !!!!!
and then you're all ... lost ... ?!?
like a ... " Helpless Puppy " ...

... " Wondering " ...

"Where the hell can that nice ***** be ?!?"

Trust me ... when I say this
I LOVE ... A Female ...

But ....
when texts ... set sail ...
it's like trying to read
A ... half written ... e-mail ... !?!

Some men are the same !!!

You send them a text ...
to arrange a ... golf game ...
but they send one back
on a ... Different Subject ... ???

I wonder if ... these dummies
know their own name !!!!!

Yet again ...
This is ... TRUE ... !!!

So .....
What would you do ... ?

if you texted a girl
you'd sexed like a **** ... !!!
having lied to your girl
cos' you ... " thought " ...
You were ... " Smart " ...

Now the little minx ... KNEW ... !!!
Your coup and ... " Played Cool " ...
Until she .... REALISED
she was ... " Falling for you " ... !!!

Then the ...
" Texting War " ... starts ... !!!
You drift ..................................... far apart
then ... one day you text ...
but her ... form of reply ...
is a lone ... " Question Mark " ... ?

It's like ...
They'd rather ... DIE ... ?!?
than give a ... " Reply " ...

Girls use this ... as if ...
it's their ... " O2 Supply " ... !?!

but reply ... just in time ...
to remain ... "in your mind" ...

See ......
These are the girls ...
I DON'T ... want to find ... !!!!!
cos' actions like this ...
now leave me ... " Perplexed " ... ???

and women like this ...
... " REALLY " ...
Make Me ... VEX ... !!!!!!!

See ... this is what happens ...
So now you're like ... WHAT ... !?!

But ....

What do you say ?
to someone who ... uses ...
" Texting " ... in this way ...

The *** was ... GREAT FUN ... !!!
but the end ... WASN'T GREAT ... !!!!

But this is what happens
when you play ... " Away Games " ... !!!!!

So Yes ... I CONFESS ... !!!
I have a ... " Complex " ...
About ... mobile phones ....
and what's ... " Coming Next " ... !!!!!

Technology's ... KILLING ...
The Art of ... " Straight Talk " ... !!!!!

Things used to be ... CLEAR ...
when text ... Wasn't Here ... !!!!!

But now that it's come ...
I'm now ... " On The Run " ... !!!
from people who like ...
to ... "hide behind texts" ...
and women ... who'd rather ...
send texts ... than have ... *** ... ?!?

cos' i've now ... had ... ENOUGH ...
of ... " Duff Stuff " ... !?!

sent by ....

..... " Text " ....

The Cons fed no rations...hahaha

The house breaking Burglars are Chris, Joan, Tom and Kelly
Ably assisted by Jim and Cindy, the black and white *******
who broke up their families, move in together, to **** each other
Life's too short, forget abandoned spouses, what the hell, ok
Then there's Linda, who's had three husbands in ten years
all leaving after a while, leaving her with two kids
to look after, what a palaver, where's a true lover
These ******* ****, use and take then do a runner
Her trust in ******* men ruined to pieces and no nookie

All dysfunctional lives, full of pain, angry at the world
Yes we're in Limehouse, but do we have to **** sour juice
They're all seeking to vent, seeking revenge for their miseries
Look that couple upstairs, always bright, styled like Vogue
neat and tidy, full of laughter, going places, yuppie cts
See quiet husband, walks like Bowie, with a kin of **** swagger
And the wife so cute and petite, drives the shiny Red Mini
He ***** her every night, I hear them, I tell you
Their skins glows, shines like the sun, too happy by half

Chris the Scot married to strife and bother
The criminal life is such wahala, police here and there
its hide and seek, no money, no nookie, no nothing
Well OK, there's Tennants and Special Brew to drown the blues
****** hubby again in Wormwood Scrubs serving ******* Majesty
Tom ain't stealing as much as father, have to beg next door again
Joan is ******* and ain't making no money, now in the duff
only fifteen, by ******* Nobby, from the Young ******* Socialist Brigade, Kelly is also ******* and only twelve, what a life
Ahh ....  life on the Estate is life in *******

Listen you all, here's the deal, here's the number
Those ******* Happy couple at number fifteen
Why ain't them struggling like us all, where's the cushty
You don't see them carping, the ******* are loaded,
Them knobs have it all, smiling and laughing like *******
Let put some fire up their *****, let's teach them street life
Hears they think they are royalties, let tax their ****** *****
I'll be the lookout, you kick in the ****** doors
Liberate their valuables, we'll all have a party

******* Nora, the quiet man has blown a frigging gasket
Says he gonna tell all we are crooks, gonna evict us, the fool
Go get the posse, go put out a contract, a ****** for the jump
We are Eastenders, born by Bow bells, and we look after our own
How ****** dare the toffee nosed tory, says I should go get a job
as if, working for honest gain is our thing, ****** idiot
Yes mate, the boys are out, the contract is on
Let's see Jackanory tell us a bleeding story
Hero to Zero is now playing at Roman Street market

Break them up, mash  them down, ruin their lives
lets play 'trading Places, see how the cts feels
I already see cool man strung up. dangling on a rope
How dare they live happy and comfortable
two wages, car, dining out, new attire every day
Come on Jim, Cindy, Linda, all go get your mates
There's work to be done, no time to play
We are the TUC, that's Thieves United Confederation
And we've got the ******* Red Boys in the Team

It's down Tobacco road for Mr Tory, the bleeding ******
Ain't no more laughter, we'll put them in the gutter
Lie and slander, defame and harass, topple Saddam
Get the ******* Red mill going, its round Robin time
How's yer father,  no more mate, not ****** likely for a while
Yer only leg-over is gonna be legging it to the Social Security
Its Dole time, pain and miseries for you sunshine
Sing a song of hate, pariah on a roundabout
Yer marathon man now mate, come meet the Red Devils

Here, They need no ******* introduction

Saddle and ride, I heard a man say,
Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea,
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
All those tragic characters ride
But turn from Rosses' crawling tide,
The meet's upon the mountain-side.
A slow low note and an iron bell.

What brought them there so far from their home.
Cuchulain that fought night long with the foam,
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
Niamh that rode on it; lad and lass
That sat so still and played at the chess?
What but heroic wantonness?
A slow low note and an iron bell.

Aleel, his Countess; Hanrahan
That seemed but a wild wenching man;
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
And all alone comes riding there
The King that could make his people stare,
Because he had feathers instead of hair.
A slow low note and an iron bell.

                      Tune by Arthur Duff

Weathered flesh tightens tenderly in ever-expanding fibers
like an anatomical snuffbox.
The perspiring philtrum of a flew
is carved quickly but more desperate than a slice of kerf.
Uncoiled youth cissing uneven pigmentation
has been slaughtered like fall duff.
Yet she rejoices, snood and all,
To the tap, tap, tap
Of little dingbats.

MaaaaaaaaaannnNNN !!!!!
I DON’T ... Give A **** !!!!!!

People over here ….
Like to …. " Pass The Buck " …

" Problems " ... Now ... APPEAR
cos most ... Live in ... " FEAR " ... !!!!!

But …
Fear's ... NOT MY PROBLEM ... !!!
My Position is ... " CLEAR " … !!!

I Know what i'm doing ... !!!
but … young people are ... Moving …
Like … New Born Deer ... !!!

Many Can't ... " stand up " ... !!!
But STILL …. They Sup ...
On ... EVERY kind of ...
Beer ... They're Near … !!!

Then come to work ...
and ... “ POSTURE ” …

with vision ....
Still ... uNcLEaR … !!!

Systems ... THIS ... !!!!
and …. Systems ... THAT ... !!!!

These Fools nowadays ...
REALLY ... Talk some ... CRAP … !!!!

They're Lucky because …..
I’m ... Tall and Black ....

because …. If I was … ???
A ... " Top Flight White "  …

BELIEVE … Fo' REAL … !!! …
They Would get ... "TRAPPED" … !!!!

They'd get ... Directed …
OFF ... The Map … !!!!!
With … No Way for them ...
To ... Come Back … !!!! …

I say this stuff ….
cos' work is ... ROUGH ... !!!
when dealing with ...
These chicks and chaps ….

I hear these things ...
These days on ... Trains ...

It seems that others ...
Feel ... " The Drain " ...
of colleagues ... who ...
Can't Take ... THE STRAIN … !!!!

But are ... THE FIRST ...
to ... Dish Out Blame ... !?!
for problems ... THEY ...
Put in ... " The Frame " ...

They take this work thing ...
for a ..... " Game " ..... !?!

When Business Deals ...
GO UP ... in flames ... !!!

They look ...

" Bemused " … ? …

Now …
Ain't that ... LAME … !!!

Now ... if my name ...
was ... David Blaine ...
These people ... wouldn't ...
look the same ... !!!!! ...

They'd be like ... " Clint " ....
WITHOUT ... A Name ...

while I would ... " Drift " .................
To Those .... " High Plains " ....

and there is ... " Where " ...
I would ... RETAIN …

My ...  Peace of Mind ...
CLEAR OF ... The blind ...
who try to put me ....
In a .... " BIND " ....

With ... ANY EXCUSE …
That they can ...  " Find " ... ?!?

to ... CLEAR THEMSELVES ...
Leaving me .... behind ....

Well …. !!!!!

This is where …...
They Should ... BEWARE … !!!!!

My tactics are …
" Refined " ... like wine ...

NOT ... to drink ... !!!
But for ... THIS LINK ...

My train of thought …
Shows that ... I THINK … !!!
on how to leave them …
On The …. BRINK …. !!! ….

NOT … On The Virge  ... !!!!!!!

Cos' that's for me ...
to ... Lyrically Splurge …

" Poetic Words " ....
that ... DEFINE ... " The Truth " ...
to … “FOOLISH HERDS" … !!!

cos' ...
Moves they make ...
Define .... “ABSURD” …. !!!?!!!

My Vision's ... CLEAR ... !!!
While there's is .....

" blurRRrrrrrEDD !!!! "

So ....
with these words ...
Do You ... " Concur " ... ???

or has ... The Piece ...

Left you like …..

D'EerrrrrrrRRRRRR …. ???!!???

I'll give you time ....
So ... Please Confer … !!!

This is ... " My Challenge " ...
Try to ... Balance ...

“PROBLEMS” … that ...
You face ... at work ...
cos' working with ….

" Blame Culture " ... Berks ...
Could …. Like the ... " Chicken " ...
Leave you ... ****** … !!!!! ...

While these ... " Smart Alecks " ...

………….. “PANIC” ………… !!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then ... " Hit The Street " ...
Just like .... " THE MANICS " …. !!!!!

This piece for me …..
Has been …. “ TITANIC ” …. !!!!!

Like the … STRUGGLES ...
In my job …. Because ….

My Colleagues ...
are ... “MESSED UP” ... !!!!!

Folks …. This is why ...
I write ... This Stuff ... !!! …

To ... STOP ME …. " Slappin' " ....

SOME FOOL ... UP ... !!! ...

Who tried to say ....

“Big Virge Messed Up ” ….

When ... TRUTH IS ….

Their work's …
ALWAYS ... " DUFF ” ... !!!!!

which is why ... " They Try " ...
to ... " COVER THEIR **** " ...
Thinking ... that they're ... SMART ... ?!?

and so ...
are quick to …

" Pass The Buck " ...

When I was little I was scared of things like sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark.
And I once choked on a cookie while crying,
And my babysitter used to let me off of my groundings if I promised not to tell.
And my aunt used to put m&ms; at the bottom of my bowl of popcorn, and everytime I was surprised.

When I was little I loved Hilary Duff and Mary-Kate & Ashley
I owned all the movies and cds.
I wanted to be pretty and skinny and blonde.
I practiced my signature to look like Hilary's
And tried to smile like Ashley.
I named my dolls Mary-Kate.
I wanted to be them.

When I was little I saw ghosts.
I would sit on the steps and talk to them,
Discussing movies and my favorite tv shows and how badly I wanted an msn account.
And they followed me and taunted me but mostly they were nice so they were my friends.

Now Im a big girl and Im still scared of things like
Sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark
And I don't eat while I cry anymore, because I once choked on a cookie and my mom ignored me.
And I don't have a babysitter anymore, but I never leave my room anyways.
And my aunt doesn't surprise me anymore.

I'm a big girl now,
And I know that Mary-Kate was a drug addict,
And that Hilary had an eating disorder
And that I look bad blonde
And that Im neither pretty or skinny
And that my smile will never look like Ashleys.
I know that I have an awful signature.
And that all those girls were sick.
But now I'm sick
Does this mean Im finally like them?

I'm a big girl now,
And instead of Disney stars, I idolize girls on tumblr
With thigh gaps and long hair
And ribs that stick out
I want so badly to be them.

Im a big girl.
I still see ghosts, but they aren't friendly anymore.
They pull my hair and dig at my skin and whisper nasty things to me.
We talk about death and blood and how good it must feel to be so skinny
That you can lie on your back and count your ribs
One
By
One.
They aren't nice anymore, but they're still my friends.

I'm a big girl now.

And it's still hard to believe it's been a year
even after a year has turned into a year and one month

And the burn that follows a tequila shot
is accompanied by your laugh

And coconut anything smells like you

And anytime any one of the many songs you loved plays
You are all I see

And I think about your eyelashes
when I put my makeup on

And red lipstick and polka dots
cannot be worn without remembering you on any other day

And lemon squares taste
like those good times

LOTR? The Beatles? Pink Floyd? Fleetwood Mac? Shakespeare? Hilary Duff?(only you would understand)
All enjoyed with you in mind

And everything that's awesome
has become a reminder
that you missed being our tequila queen on the first day;
that you never got to wear your cap and gown
and eat pancakes at 5 am;
never got to see eighteen
and put your well educated vote to use;
and you never got to stand to your full five feet and one inch
and say to the world
"Here I come."

And I guess the songbirds keep singing
with that blackbird
in the dead of night

But it's hard to hear
because we're all butchering Bennie and the Jets
at the top of our lungs
from atop someone's couch

Just like you'd have wanted,
just like you'd have done.

sharing all seasons -
international home of
earthling family.

this is life lost -
deaths of brothers and sisters
cut me, raging tears

rage of tears at dawn
--how are you?
my beloved strangers...
earthlinghood revised,
blogospheric species-hope.

first day
adless surfing -
wet my pants.
the old concentration back,
i breathe relieving sighs.

infotainment age -
authentic journalism
revised and found

#riseupoctober -
"The Souls of Black Folk," asks Du Bois,
do you have a *soul?

my white-washed education
didn't give me one; love did.

Trent Lott's lot:
a segregationist, blogged
into mississippi's mud.

Coltrane's music
fire in my chest, supreme
love-train of Cornel West

Chimamanda sings
inclusion and awareness -
what do you sing?

untimely autumn
frost, grinding into duff
a bigot's words.






.

I jumped on my bike as fast as I could
but not fast enough, it did me no good
the bully kid was big and mean and acted very tough
laughing all the while he quickly knocked me on my duff

Rubbing grass in my mouth, slapping me in the face
him laughing at me, me feeling so disgraced
he punched me so hard then left me crying on the ground
I slowly stood up, was there anyone else around?

I gathered up my books and slowly climbed on my bike
and pedaled straight home mustering all of my might
"What happened to you, son?" Mom was the first to see
I cried as I replied "I got beat by a bully!"

"I'm so sorry for you son, I'm so sad that you were harmed"
just then my dad walked in and immediately looked alarmed
Dad quickly asked me "Son, did you give him back the same?"
I sheepishly said "no" re-experiencing the shame.

My dad just stared awhile then said "I don't like what you're becoming.
Next time you better fight, give the bully what he's got coming!
First you punch him in the stomach then you hit him in the face
He won't hurt you any more, when you put him in his place!"

I slowly nodded as he left, then Mom quickly gave my cheek a kiss
"I'm so proud of you son for not fighting him with your fist
The Lord's servant doesn't need to fight but should be gentle instead"
"Yes ma'am" I quickly said as conflicting counsel twirled round my head

The next 5 years at school when tensions flared I was a gentle talker
as a bully approached my sophomore year I threw him against his locker!

Thank you Mom and Dad!

Saturday
shop busy
you with Dylan Thomas’s
Deaths & Entrances

poetry book  
tucked in
your inside pocket
of your brown jacket

Miss Croft
Saturday girl
dark hair
ponytailed

swaying
her tight ***
in her short skirt
up and down

the shop aisle
Duff the manager
bespectacled
with curly mass

of dark hair
standing there
cigarette in mouth
conversing

with a customer and wife
about which paint
went best
with what wallpaper

giving the dame
the eye
giving the charm
you tanked up

(you worked better
that way)
with some old couple
wanting curtains

to match
the wallpaper choice
the blue flowers
the pattern

the old guy gazing
at the Croft girl
the way
she wiggled her ***

her la-de-da tones
her bright eyed
expression
then she talked

to friends from college
more friends
than Trotsky
had enemies

standing there
hands on hips
tight tee shirt
small ****

and can you order this
in a light blue
the old dame asked
the blue here’s

too dark
the old guy nodded
his head turned
eyes on his wife’s

profile
sure sure
you said
controlling the slur

the beer taking hold
the old dame
seemed pleased
her husband gave

the Croft girl
another secret gaze
her tight *** moving
side to side

as she walked
the aisle
her friends departed
you watched her

with her bourgeoisie
life and ways
her small tight body
wrapped

like a dream
and the sale complete
the old couple
went away

through the business
of wallpaper
and paint
all of a Saturday.

Addendum to title:
Boyhood Digs in Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426

Oft times forced exposure therapy spelled rustling quiet
Pyrrhic punitive onslaughts noisome moody linkedin kicks
jarring inxs harbored grievances foo fighting essence
denoting cannibalized august boy aghast to confront reality
returning home meant compromising autonomy
acceptable collateral casting leftist strides rite
constituting timid steps circumscribing childhoods’ end,
comprising reluctant trudge treading toward adolescence
where wold wide webbed magic ride
rode ruff shod o’er carped hooked
synthetic threads re: fibrous veld
whence extolled impressive footprints
measured triangular wedges rung duff feet
expediently dragged churlish badinage afoot
stretching across Scottish tartan
Harris Tweed unwelcome matt despite frustrated parents
whose vitriol unleashed tough-love,
smacked regularly quasi planned
threatened ultimatums venomous viz witches
yawping against my brand
falling out of good graces,
though hatching escape merely fanned
actions hightail me to bedroom, a secure space,
not exceptionally grand
yet despite rapacious and relentless rage
against the sole son, who hand
did lee managed inciting wrath
of me papa and late mama,
this parcel of land, now entombs nostalgia
namely 324 level road, Collegeville,
Penna, 19426 make believe pal Joey and this creator
passively succumbed to withstand
invisible jetblue lobbing onslaught of slingshot barbs,
wharf fear to rely on self way past primetime,
which solo endeavor didst demand
absent belief, confidence and faith in innate survival skills,
hence countless admonitions recurred
razed quest qua pursed lips
those who begat their only male heir,
provoking predictable panned
da moan he hum in tandem
with concomitant wickedness akin to eland
caught in cross hairs getting pistol-whipped
with many barking explicit derogatory gerund formed
expletives, that did not dislodge this immobile body electric
defying logic, now in retrospect clueless why I suffered to withstand
incessant verbal, venal, and n’er vampire weakened blows
inexplicable, how this soulful, ruminating,
and tortured walking wounded blithely weathered turpitude  
though devoid of sense and sensibility, how no man iz an island
though at times incontinent, where jocund this bard for’er opened
Pandora’s box, but hindsight softened cleft pride and prejudice
whereat bulldozed site of once grand “Glen Elm” tears me up inside
fading memories refreshed, via priceless gift
from beloved younger sister
unwittingly mitigated hammer blows of pain to confront the void,
whence away from obliterated complex edifice grief felt ******!

Static anxiety housed in a shipping container
Bound for the coast of Maine.
Pandora slipped out from the lead-lined box,
And drowned out of sight, in elapsing waves.

Hallowed shores in the presence of beached harlequins
Sipping sand as their bodies get dragged
Latched and cast off as bait
Used to pull Poseidon out from the depths

Holding fast as shipping lanes rust,
Bleeding off into the current bellow.
Path marked by Aphrodite’s bust.
Belittled at the point of metaphysical conceit.

The epic crashed and burned
Turned to dust through a negligent Milton
Burning down the library of Alexandria
Housing ashy books with inadequate binding.

Homer, now, repeats a Harvard grads humor
Doh filled remnants of a paralyzed form
Duff downed in the hours after the plants closing
The barred doors leave Joyce with nothing left to quote.

This doodling Yankee (boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit fitting figurative footwear,
that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving Finger hut issue,
when or if arctic blasts cold
doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence  humans analogously held hostage
linkedin among fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly searching vainly
from shelter ring sky (with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling

(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago) livingsocial
jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill by  Ponderosa Pine
drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling away time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel
capriciously, felicitously,

and indubitably stripped away
bow ring pastime asper watching paint dry
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill) to duff fend themselves
whereat mortality will steal immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled
within luxurious faux existence
capitalistic dreams engendered existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,

indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors
scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin **** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps against pearl jam killers
who do not shrink from ethically principled,

but give full reign to selfish callous deleterious foibles,
gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom rhizome rapidity
ousting the  omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated, futilely integrated, lending oomph
residentially, scientifically tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,

justified kneaded love thy neighbor motto
lyft ting in one fell swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven, heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes reflecting up
nor doodling Yankee staking claim to fame
via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling the playing field.

A good day is when youre singing in the car and your brother shouts every lyric. Its blasting NSINC and pretending that you're justin and he's...one of the other guys. It's reminding him of a time he stole a Hillary Duff CD from your sister because it was his guilty pleasure.

A good day is hearing him laugh again. Its looking into his eyes and not finding the devil. its seeing the ashes of a wildfire and knowing that there are trees still standing, that he is still standing and his legs are done shaking and he may have a few branches missing but he's willing to grow new ones.

A good day is being hit until you name five candy bars. Snickers, Twix, Hersheys, sour patch kids..wait. no. See, its so hard to think when your head is a pack of smarties. Does he remember when he taught you how to crush them and inhale the powder? Your first blunt was the sweetest but he was looking for a different high.

A good day is having him ask about your record player as if he's never seen one before. As if everything is new to him, as if he's missed a whole lifetime. He tells you that its like falling asleep and waking up to a different sky and wondering how long it's been that way. Its staring into a mirror to watch your eyes dilate, its watching them change colors and remembering how they used to be.

He tells you that he wants every day to be a good day. That this time will be different. He tells you that its been 5 days and he's still counting but all you can think of is the last.. day 5; Hearing your mothers phone ring and knowing who it is even though its a blocked number. You think of day 10 and all the sweat he laid shaking in. Day 15, when you saw him for the first time in 3 months and his smile for the first time in years. He tells you about the friends he's made and laughs about the brick wall he hangs out with outside. He says that even though there's a piece of glass between you, he's never felt so free.

You think of day 35 and the three phone calls you missed and you remember picking up the 4th one. When he told you that he was sorry. That he tried but couldn't reach you. He tells you that he went for plan B, he tells you that he found an old friend that always picks up and how he forgot why they stopped talking in the first place.

You tell him that youre sorry. You tell him that your head was stuck in smarties and you've been hoarding candy bars for months.

Day one; You put a lighter to wrappers and your eyes are a wildfire.

pick phone up   put it down again
take a selfie   no another one   and again   light isn’t right
what’s on Twitter   scroll for twenty minutes   pause   basically
PREGNANCY PRANK [GONE WRONG]   add to playlist
oh how can he be the president   like   says it ‘coz he can
love the warm weather   global warming maybe   but oh well
Starbucks for breakfast   lunch   Spotify playlist
like   red heart   blue thumbs-up   share   like
that inspirational quote   you know   basically   I can relate
CHEATING PRANK [GONE WRONG]   add to playlist
election   couldn’t have told you there was one
have we left it yet   like   what are we leaving again
petty crime rise   stay vigilant
something about Brussels   a royal up the duff  
but did you see what Kim was wearing   like   did you hear
what her sister did   with that guy   you know   that guy
look  she’s uploaded   why we broke up   shame
oh yeah   oh well
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