O how I recall with joy a visit to Jackson, proud capital of Mississippi,
The land of the fearless fatties, the glorious land of the uber-obese,
A paradise enjoying amazingly high blood pressure and diabetes rates,
Thanks to the greed and gluttony of its 'proud-to-be-portly' inhabitants.

How delightful to stroll along its leafy boulevards, admiring the advertising
For junk food shops: "Super-Size Your Deep Crust Giant Pizza for only $1!"
"Real Men love our Emperor Size Cheeseburgers, King Size is for Kids!"
And "Come Try Our All Day Giant Breakfast with Triple French Fries!"

How enchanting to see furniture stores offering discounted extra big sofas,
Builders and carpenters with their cut-price floor-strengthening deals,
Tailors' shops with their displays of buffet pants and elasticated jeans,
Realtors promoting houses with double porches and wide internal doors.

And, O the trailer parks, those truly splendid residential areas,
With their giant size immoveable vehicles with spacious entry portals
To allow the immaculately dressed residents to carry in an armful
Of multi-packs of chocolate iced crème flavour filling Krispy Kremes.

But most wondrous of all, the myriad rival Pentacostal Chapels
With their guaranteed reinforced concrete padded sofa-pews
And their portrayals of plump Jesuses to make the fatties feel at home.
And all those "funeral parlors" with their gaping super-wide caskets.

How I loved the blinking stares of the sleep-deprived bible students
As they staggered out of an architectural wonder of a chapel,
Bleary-eyed after an all-night bible study session, and all eager
For a healthy breakfast of a dozen flash-fried sugar encrusted "donuts".

I was there in this glorious world centre of ever-escalating obesity
With my latest gorgeous lady love (at only 140 pounds and five foot two,
possibly the slimmest woman in the entire Jackson Metropolitan Area)
And we decided to try some good ol' Mississippi fine dining as a treat.

Holey Moley! What a feasts on offer: pan-fried catfish, deep-fried catfish,
Steaks the size of an encyclopaedia and all accompanied by unlimited fries!
Sweet potato and pecan pie with butter, sugar, eggs and extra cream,
And Mississippi Mud Pie with its chocolate crust and sticky chocolate filling!

(The chef de cuisine in our upscale diner told us that Southern cooks
had created this wondrous dessert because its sophicated ingredients
were available cheaply and the recipe required only minimal culinary skill,
and what's more it came with a treble serving of supermarket ice cream!)

We declined the bottomless cup of watery coffee with compulsory sugar
And enquired if we might have a bottle of his finest wine. Quel faux-pas!
The dear fatso was mortified and told us his was a Christian establishment
And strong drink was frowned upon. Did we think he was a degenerate?

That night we lay bloated like beached whales in our tasteful motel room
(its bed reinforced with ferro-concrete to deal with the horrid possibility
that any gargantuan visitors might wish to copulate vigorously);
Oh how we burped and farted, longing for a dose of bicarbonate of soda.

All good things come to an end so, after a nessy session on the toilet
(we filled it thrice), we bade farewell to the desk clerk and sloped off.
"Be sure y'all come back real soon," he declared, patting his fat gut,
"Cuz you both sure do look two real skinny Limeys, ya hear me?."

As we drove out of this elegant city that steamy Southern summer morn
In our rented 4X4 super-strong chassis Land Rover, how we smiled
At the scene outside Walmart where the special offer of the day
Was five pounds of free candies with every single assault rifle sold.

But alas! And alack! Tragedy was not so very far away that day:
Some corpulent teenagers toppled off the sidewalk under my auto's wheels
In their indecent haste to take advantage of the latest McDonald's bargain:
A quart of complimentary Dr Pepper's with a whole oven-fried McTurkey.

Oy! What a horrid mess my fender made of their pudgy, mottled flesh
And how wise we were to speed off before the cops arrived
At least, we avoided being beaten us to a pulp for being leftist libtards
Come to laugh at the dear redneck ways south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

It's Christmas time
I've eaten so much
I'm opting for
Elasticated waist band's
At least until March
When I think
I'll be able
To move again

What makes you so sure your sickness need not be heavily medicated?
You walk around, your body hanging like your favourite outfit that you never wear anymore,
stumped in a box
The street lights breathe like the cigarette that you smoke at the end of the night and regret immediately after,
the cigarette that tastes like glue,
The pads of your feet blink to the floor,
Your soft eyes watch the people and their smiles, they once represented jealousy but now sail past you like leaves of boredom from nowhere,
You chew on an energy bar as the purple plants, bike riders, suit case carriers and fire hydrants stroll by,
You make fists to fit eye sockets, but your hands stay by their sides
waiting for the courage to find the change that promises never to come,
You sit on the bench and wait for somebody who might chemically excite you
Your mouth clamps shut and your food rots inside of you molding your breath,
The dog walkers follow their excuses not to be lonely
and you crave a machine to make you feel better,
no human will do,
And the cats purr against tree legs and look at you as though you are stupid,
You sit around your friends wanting more intoxication
anything but this elasticated dribble of saliva they call ‘the gang’
Because another ‘gang’ is just another situation where you can feel alone and misunderstood again,
another metaphor for your life and incapability to feel comfortable,
You bathe in quiet awkwardness that only you feel
and cry when no one looks or when no one decides to see,
And you wallow in the self pity that sleeps in beer cans and wine glasses
searching at the bottom of them for someone who can relate to your loneliness,
And everyone thinks they’ve got the answers but you do too and you think the answers are no good either,
You call out on roof tops in the loudest voice your thoughts can muster
And the teachers who get paid to care have given up too,
So you sit like an old book being read over and over again melting to resemble an instruction manuel or something equally repetitious,
And you wait for the time to pass,
and the people too,
You wait to be interested by something,
anything that will comfort you,
But you seek solace in the smell of dustbins, petrol, sea salt, beer froth and your hands in the shower,
And hope that they’ll all
come together
and somehow
let you know
it’s going to be okay.

What happened to the shoe the plimsoll.
Now not seen?
Has the supple and flexing rubber soul.
These day's never seen.
Came in white or black.
Some had lasses.
Some elasticated encases.
They always fitted the foot.
And to run and play.
Give me the elastic sided ones any day.
On the white ones.
You would polish them with Blanco.
To keep then witter than your teeth.
Black ones you just wash.
Teachers used for punishment.
Now my **** still has.
Blanco and Black gloss.

Come Back Plimsoll.
O Plimsoll how I miss you.
And in my past lost.

for years i have lived
within this
bubble
a bubble that i made
to keep me safe
keeps me safe
within
keeps me away
clear
transparent
like elasticated glass
i see the world
from within
and have felt safe
from within
it keeps the world
at arms length
safe and away
keeps me away
within
keeps me safe
but
i can't touch the outside
from within
my fingertips press the clear
press the transparent
press the glass
and it gives
under my touch
as my fingers enter
the world beyond
i have need
i have longing
i want
i want to go
beyond
to feel the outside
to touch
and breathe
and live
beyond
the within
to escape the
bubble
that i had created
so that i was free

A secret shelter by design

whose function is primarily

providing unseen sanctuary

discretely hiding all that’s there

elasticated underwear.

elasticated mind
all rolled up
seeking new horizons

Immortal words lingers in my
Elasticated thoughts,
Yet, suppressed by growing old
With Fearless pain that time cannot
Ease alone.
When I cried, it chased unpleasant
Dreams of sanity,
Just too much time cannot erase
Old wounds,
The pain is too real like childhood
Fears
Now, I’m bound by the cruelty held
Within
But, you still have all of me
I’ve tried so hard to tell myself
That time will heal once again
Yet, my life has slipped through thy
Hands
As I fight away the tears once again

elasticated heart
elasticated mind

stretching vitality
stretching acceptance

Any food to suit your taste
So always wear an elasticated waist
The calories pile as you seal your own fate
Christ I love it on a Sunday
The all you can eat extravaganza
Curry for breakfast followed by scones and tea
It says it in writing, eat all you can see
Leaving so full that will do you for the day
I'll be back same time next week,
at the all you can eat buffet

JJB

Masks are chin pads
suspended from ears
with elasticated bands
which enables the jaw
to close automatically
after uttering a stupid.