The end of another instalment of this little battle of teasing dad


I am trying to tell everyone I am cool and dad says you see still getting teased, even if you if you say that
You can handle people ditching me, but the natural fact I ditched him in a way, you see I wanted to make new friends and the friend I came in with just nicked off home leaving me to party all night at the firehouse, cause I thought doing that was cool, I realise that when you drink alcohol you sometimes feel a little shy as you listen to the music that sounds a bit sad but you bounce back up when they play a fast song like La Bamba gets played you start getting down and party down really hard and even if you down real hard, and I also think they treat me like a real cool dude and some men said I was a great ugly snout and I decided to say it too dad, but that was just the start of the little instalment of teasing dad, because he sort of concentrates on trying to keep his family safe, which is cool, and I love him for it, but I want him to realise that I did it to be closer with people my own age so I could avoid being treated like real old fogie when they pass away, cause I want my brother to have a good life and I want him to sort of not be shy to be a man., even if or goes against everything he believes in because we aren't invincible and I don't want him to be treated like me really, or try and do what he wanted to mainly because you can't change the past but I want his daughters to love him for the person he is, and I know that they are saying I am not a young dude for the way I used to act but I don't want the family to say to Chris that they finally got rid of hue yeah mate yeah kid, cause sometimes in life you have to do things you don't wanna do to gain respect, I got teased but I still enjoyed myself
But this another instalment of teasing dad, I want Chris to leave the old fogies on their own big, but I am doing that anyway, but that is another chapter in the saga, I don't want to be like dad to a tease but I ain't shy because I was really cool when I was young


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I lie upon the soft field grasses,
and look up upon the blue.
To ease the mind to rest,
and let my eyes take in the view.

Vapour shaped by wind,
that drifts high upon the restful scene.
To float upon the pastel,
leaving no trace where it has been.

Shapes of white and grey,
like soft pillows in the air.
That by some subtle contortion,
transform, 'til naught is there.

Others drift across the daylight,
as if on some predestined course.
propelled across the sky,
by a breath of nature's unseen force.

I wonder where they go,
what bidding do they do.
As they glide along their way,
until far beyond my capsuled view.

Sun's warmth in temporary instalments,
as shadows come and go.
The shade and shadow's fall,
slightly cool all that is far below.

Through my eyes now closed,
of soft patterns I remain complete aware.
As warmth and slight chill mark the clouds,
that march upon the springtime air.

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None would imagine,
a benign imp,
blithe, light footed
triggers a surge
of aesthetic spasms
******* of the brain,
moves incognito
on this high podium
beside your chair
when you
read your poem
just like when you're
in a creative reverie

Every time it's a mystery
how she sets music
within every word
how then a rhythm
in progression
is unleashed
flowing in to your
poetic musings
to create an image concrete,
correlating to the wave
beating in your brain

Heart, soul and spirit
merge in to one
poetic words to mark
what your being gathered
from spring flower fields
and scorched earth alike

all the poet  gathered
at the receiving end
of the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune,
is set in tune,
all of you gathered here
for the poetry session
walking through the labyrinths
inebriated by poetic wine,
munch yourself bit by bit
in the cadence of poetic beats,
as past, present and dreams
in many small instalments
pour in from the beginning.

What the poet offers
takes, each one listener
to a world different,
one begets many
images proliferate.
They will relish all this
and be born again
within themselves
later on, leisurely with light
peeping out of their eyes,
an alchemy none can explain

"Your kohl black Indian eyes,
emitting  silver lightening
**** me in small instalments"
I whisper, softly in her ear
"From my beloved mother,
but much less lethal"she explains
the generational difference.

"This kick *** legginess"
I begin while doing
an *"Aarti"with my eyes ,
on that magnificence;
it soon turned panegyric,
yes she loved it, of course.

"A family inheritance,
athletic genes, handed over
from a day past, but your attention,
at this juncture is misguided"
she turns cheeky at such times.
"A heart that beats faster whenever
a thing of beauty is at sight, nothing more"
I attempt to smoothen the friction.

"The spirit instilled by a father,who'd
die for beauty and then polished it to such shine
by one special,who is kept here"winking at me
says she, pointing at her chest, assets ample,
vying with each other, for a space,
on her front page, though what she
meant was her heart,in a space much deeper.

stomach aches, illness
heartbreaking stillness
craving a remedy but avoiding the potent
heal in increments, cry in instalments

stomach aches, imperfect
only 3-4 days i am working
other than that, diving as deep as the ocean
explore my brain, ruffle my feathers
distill my vain, sew the pieces together

I get around to you
because
you asked me to,
then what did we do?

She accrues favours
like some get the gout.

Hurting is healing
she'll say,
and I guess that it's right
when we cry in the night
we can smile through the day

so it seems to be a half dream,
like it comes
in instalments

fulfilment's like that too.

testing! testing! hello! testing!

dipping my nugget in the bbq sauce
has begun,
i love it!
i've never had such an adrenaline
rush antidote, since watching ****
online, but, **** me,
i can hardly miss the opportunity,
and a lost expectation.

so i make a trolltube account -
just to leave a comment on a video
FBE, a video that puts children
against the oldies in the music scene,
i make prog rock recommendations,
implying: could at least
bridge a gap between classical music,
not that the kids have
to identify the bands,
but whether they *like the music....

and hey presto! out pops a troll!
and it went like this:

me - king crimson, jethro tull, tool, slayer,
tom petty & the heartbreakers,
rage against the machine, pearl jam,
prince: prog rock for exploring classical
bridges in labyrinth making in these cranium
sponges... last time i heard, no marylin manson
music video can't match up to freaking
out people as much as listening to gong's
the flying teapot album.

troll no. 1 -
ur creating posers and u word it like an edgy
hipster ****.

well, **** me! isn't it christmas!

me (replying) - perhaps, but the litre of whiskey
i've just drank doesn't help either, nonetheless
i've been well informed that youtube is rife with trolls,
and i was begging myself to find a platform to craft
an antidote to my apathy; much obliged for proving
my insiders' as being right, i might actually
take to these adrenaline instalments as the alt.
to what will become the new-****; **** man,
you're giving me a hard-on! well done!

no wonder i don't post on you-tube,
i.e. troll-tube...
     i can't even argue the point of current
youtube stars being demonetized...
  i have no sympathy,
talk about a psychopathic / sociopathic
knack at making "friends"...
    by the way, this was my first comment
on the platform,
i like watching children react to music
i grew up with, just as much as i like:
kids covering tool's song 46 & 2...
  it almost feels paternal,
  patriarchal in the extreme:
but to the point: a learning canvas.
      
i hope you find a more accommodating
platform, where people are sincere,
and not ready to cognitively gut you...
it's so sad, it's a sadness that deserves the
weird happiness, of youtube videos being
demonetized... oddly enough...
if you simply can't ensure a freedom
is a cordiality, if you can't ensure you
retain the freedom, with a promise of
tact, & manners, why have it?

i just made one footnote in the history
of youtube, and already i'm getting
an adrenaline rush of pity mingling with
the wrath of adrenaline,
sad, isn't it, so why expect anything more,
or less?
  
   i wish pity upon these internet anonymous
boogers, but i hardly can contain my
contempt boiling over...
      it's just sad, how people forgot how
to spell, for starters,
and then it dawns upon me:
  a language that neglects its existence:
is a language worthy of foreigners to
speak it, with the natives:
fryin' buns & baycon fry ups -
  glut shoot their turds into the depths
of the brown sea of ceramic shorelines -
the more i see of this,
the less i feel obliged to care -
  naturally occurring patterns of "expertease",
with that sort of first encounter:
i too, feel obliged: to **** on the natives
like a psychotic seagull with diarrhoea.

the idea of being a father,
is as much deserving the distraught
or / what if?!
as of the thought of attaining fatherhood
watching these gremlins
listen to the music i grew up with,
and nevering attaining the role
of father;
then again i basque in the endless loss
of responsibility;
which is always a non-celebratory
"analogy"
of having served the god of continuum,
which never made it to posit of the god:
(of) stand-still;

nonetheless, it's nice to have experienced
the shittiness of youtube,
and not have moaned about the censorship
of what videos are on offer:
pretty much a load of *******...
    1st comment 1st answer and you
get shrek...
     shows you a lot about, this "freedom"
of speech that shtinks...
      oops... looks like this freedom,
is a freedom's worth of hell.

No one knows of course
because no one cares enough
to understand,

life
is tough
although I have seen its
sweet side
and that's why
however bad things get
I'm staying for the full ride,
wouldn't want to miss
any instalments.