it’s real and thick, like, jiggly
tingly and tasty— i said baby i’m
not made for much but giggling
and i can make your night
haven’t spoken since i was out on bond
but you’re super cute more than i
envisioned and you’re good at makeup

makes my feelings all kinds of wiggly
days lost in green oblivion
like a prison weight lugged around
do you remember when you were
with me all skinny and brittle *****?

the only shame i feel: muslims hold a single book to be synonymous of a library.

apologies, this is why i wasn't fully integrated,
i hold enough respect for the English ethnicity to keep
the reins on my Slavic origin, and its ancient history,
i want to see the Graeae cauldron
of multiple-ethnicity and culturalism:
what with former slaves learning
rap to topple the slavish shackles?
no one ever heard my story under
the Germans, Russians and Austro-Hungarians,
all those to topple Israel already toppled me
to migrate and leave my mother *******
toward an an export: until the black gold runs
out you sand-******... until the oil runs out...
until the oil runs out...
you're the one abusing it because you have it...
until the oil runs out sand-******...
you gonna take the slang out of me?
what is it now? global or feminist tactic?
Chine ain't about to give Dagenham back,
like they're not giving Ostrowiec Św.:
first division in 1997.. extra-class...
yummie piggies at the trough:
money was created to pacify and let
rich boy girls' spend...
      Lwów / Lvov was still in poker hands
of Roosevelt... so much for ******* H'america...
     biker-clan-glandular-rhaps (or plural of odes):
****! i hate belonging to come or some thing...
i always thought about comedy prone enlarged *******
for the geography between left ****** antarctic and
right ****** arctic in tune with the jiggly fatty-bergs..
no... factual-bergs...
but you'd never disintegrate into a 0a.d.
given the colonial history narrative that doesn't
involve the old testament and ***-kissers and
hefty conservative ***-pleasers like the book
of Antioch proposed... made that up...
got mixed up thinking on the necromancer of
the year that was actually 1997-8
17th *KSZO Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski, tablature
pld.     pts.        w.   d.     l.    f.      a.
         34      24    6   6 22 24 47...
piggie piggie: got the giddy giggly ***** ****-a-doodle-do...
and i know i would too...
small town Polish town, a big Russian
would-be clever-pincer attracted to ******-pinching,
and all the milky drools, down the Nile toward
Cairo, so long as you wife is an Oasis of hamburgers and
strobe-berry epileptics, i.e.: blink 182's what's my age again?
i speak the ******* sprechen and i don't even belong
here... it's like i'm apologising for something that
was coming... thankfully i'm resolved to integrate cognitively
but in the domestic realm have nothing to do with
this language...
     i don't want to speak it to my mother,
i don't want to speak it to my father,
i can't afford to rent a house and prolong a university
bachelor lifestyle, the arabs and nigerians bought
all the flats out and are renting them out...
hopefully to Somalian pirates for: essex tan orange
sake in terms of: if i figured my tongue was an
axe in the first place... i'd lace my life with
many more people applauding...
i never understood this desire to integrate without
having the right to censor what i'm about to
embrace... a contract, much of smallprint readied
on the fidgety hand...
       it's not that i suddenly chose to
ethnically suspend my origins for a need to respect,
i kept my mother tongue for times such as these,
when i can't be approached as white and as inheritor
of colonialism... if i say i'm German they'll *******
clap, i remember once they asked me as if i were
going to do an app. for the caliphate asking me:
you German? no... Polish... huh? what's that?
somewhere in between Germany and Russia...
now i can't claim the ethnicity that my's right hand
of use with tongue... and now i can't claim the
tongue that isn't the ethnicity but is otherwise my
limb-for-limb... 5p.m. tea 100 years later is
a hijab on the streets of Birmingham...
no secret... i just see why i need to be involved like
some James Dean "wannabe" schizoid spice...
there will be no news from Poland concerning
the migrant crisis, no talk of a Muslim takeover...
ironically, as Monty Python would have said:
everyone was expecting a Polish Inquisition,
or as the crowds chanted: Evangelism! not the Quran!
happily are those: seeing America involve
itself in this slogan... me? as ever, the Pontius Pilate:
i said it once, i'll say it again:
panic is worse than fascism...
   panic is worse than fascism...
you don't expect panic, hence the beasts' stampede
in urban areas... fascism? you know it's
coming, and you know it's not good...
             fascism is panic realised too late,
fascism is panic organised... you knew it was coming
and you did nothing to prevent it...
  the only thing that could have prevented Trump
winning the presidency was acknowledging an unequivocal
membership of the union... Cracow wasn't built in
one day... trigger ******* happy panic button: press!
press! oppress! that special relationship of yours?
yeah... ye'ha! rear 'em in with that quiff of yours, cowboy!
ye'ha!
please don't get me involved, i know how to
impale a turk on a rotten wooden stump, rather than
crucify a Syrian on a geometric of mahogany
amid sacred words: so descended onto a mosque's minaret
and the hippy-hair-debate, and no hair and the hajj.
i know, people are apprehensive you're not a businessman
employing 100 slave Mongolians enlisted to blowing
up 1000 helium filled balloons an hour for birthday
party contracts... and none of them are properly trained
in ventriloquist's chipmunk!
              james dean was the original schizophrenic...
who treated society as an asylum,
and the asylum as a garden of Eden...
                                       lucky him: mono-linguistic...
   i sometimes wish i had that luxury on inherent
cleansing of ethnicity, so i could be left with only
a culinary boasting akin to the Persian quote on
falafel... but then you never know who's side you're
gonna be on...
i might as well quote him akin to j. franco post-doppelganger:
you're tearing me apart!
                                   and they say people think...
nonetheless: whether thinking or not,
they are... a welcome aversion in finding pleasure in
zoos; esp. the times when they're sweating like sardines
stashed in vulvas on underground trains: ventriloquists'
suggestion? moans: foetal moans... get me out of here...
otherwise groaned? harder... mm... deeper...
make your pelvis kiss my pelvis! mmm... baby!
first your read the Marquis to get a hard-on,
then you ****-off that hard-on...
and then you do a hand-job to someone else
and pass on the Oxfam motto to some other "hungry" Afrikaan.

Shroud, encompassing
The blanket over my head I am the twin of
The sleeping spring, hers is snow my sister
The one I actually like

The unending winter, blank white
Now I see why animals hibernate, in the winter there is
No color to paint your thoughts on The sky is spliced with the ground, blazing white unending no limit to ponder
No sky to ponder the limit of (lim as x approaches 2, calculus, my bane)
You tip-toe through pure white banks, your soul is ***** in comparison you are old ugly jiggly and soft in comparison
To sharp clear fractals, individuals sparkling even in the whitesky's frank stare whiteground whitesky white
I don't add up I don't add up I don't add up I don't add up

They say this is the longest winter ever recorded for Canada
People joke we're Canada we live in igloos anyways I can confirm
This is wrong; I have distinct memories of spider-holes in damp dead grass
Furious water rushing down rock blasted for a highway
Warm sun damp air damp grass rubber boots and most of all
Bluesky greenbrownground an imperfect world to wonder in
To not feel incomparable to
Mud as jiggly and soft as fat and muscle layered on bleach bones, bone marrow chunky porous redbrownred
No white to speak of, even my pale skin is pinkish dotted with islands of moles

When I wake up the blanket is a shroud over my head to block out the light and now I understand what I must do
Hibernate and forget like the bears I miss
Let the white light filter through colorful sheets I will feed off the blue light instead
Remember, it can't last forever somethings gotta give

Express sympathy for the car crashes and wait.
Patiently.

Chubby doesn't bother me.
I am ok with big
It's not the curves
the fat
Or the occasional roll
It's not my jiggly upper thighs
My thick legs.
That bother me.
I think my body has beauty.
I believe my body has beauty as long as I love it.
As long as I am willing to stand up tall
And walk with confidence
My body has beauty
As long as I continue to use my body
To move
Stretch
Feel
ache
dance
jump
lust
be...
Then my body has beauty
I am still insecure
But I know
That when I ask myself
Would you really be prettier when you're smaller?
I can say honestly
No.
Because I know
I can only be as pretty as I let myself be
No matter what form I take
My body has beauty
As long as I love it.

Amor,
Affection,
Beautiful,
Body,
Contours,
Curves,
Devilish,
Del­ightful,
Enormous
Epiphanies,
☺☺☺☺
Feel,
Gratitude,
Great,
Home,
­Hot,
Illumination,
Idolism,
Jealous,
Jiggly :),
Kind,
Kisses,
Lovely,
Laborless,
Me,
Moving,
Night,
New,
Over­,
Opulence,
Pretty,
Precious,
Queen,
Quirk,
Revel,
Repeat,
Sensit­ive,
Succubus,
Ticklish,
Time,
Under,
Undressed,
View,
Veins,
Won­derful,
Winter,
X is a bad letter,
Yonder,
You,
Zealous,
Zippers.

PARTY ZONE WITH DAVE AND SUE JANUARY 3 2015







DAVID’     HI DUDES AND WELCOME TO PARTY ZONE, AND ON TODAY’S SHOW, WE ARE AT

THE AAA NITE CLUB, IN GAREMA PLACE, AND TONIGHT WE HAVE ENTERTAINMENT FROM

PETE NOWNEY, WHO IS PERFORMING AT AAA NIGHT CLUB, THEN SUE LONGWAYS

GETS A FEW OF THE CLUB’S PATRONS TO PERFORM A FEW DRINKING SONGS OF THEIR PAST

AND HERE IS SUE WITH ERNIE PIGFEST

SUE’,  HI I AM SUE LONGWAYS, AND WE HAVE A GREAT DRINKING GAME TO SING, OK ERNIE TAKE IT AWAY

ERNIE’   21 BOTTLES OF BOURBON ON THE WALL, AND A FULL BOTTLE OF SCOTCH

YOU BETTER GET YA COTTON PICKING HANDS OFF IT, OR I’LL PUNCH YOU IN THE GOB, AND MAKE YA A SNOB

YOU SEE DRINKING GAMES ARE SO MUCH FUN

YEAH, THEY ARE FUN, OH YEAH, YA SEE WE HAVE CHIPS AND BURGERS AS WELL

AND A NICE CAN OF BEER, OR JUG OF BEER, WHATEVER YA RECKON, MATE

IT’S GETTING CLOSE TO  HALF PAST EIGHT

SUE’   THANKS, ERNIE, AND HOP IN THE HOT TUB AND NOW HERE IS **** LEARY

****’  I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT, I REALLY WANNA MOVE IT MOVE IT

I WANNA PARTY PARTY, AND I WANNA GET DRESSED UP AS A REAL SMARTIE

OH SLICK, YOUR A ****, YOU HAVE NO BRAINS, LIKE A REAL SPASTIC

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT, I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT

I REALLY WANNA SHAKE MY THANG, I REALLY WANNA SHAKE MY THANG

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT

GO QUICK, YOUR A ****, YOUR A BRAINLESS TWIT WHO IS SPASTIC

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT, MOVE IT MOVE IT

I WANNA HEAD TO EVERY CLUB IN THE CANBERRA CBD

OH YEAH THIS IS THE TIME WHERE WE REALLY PARTY

COME ON GUYS, GET WIGGLY WITH IT GET JIGGLY WITH IT

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT

SUE’  THANKS AND NOW OVER TO, YO  DAVID AND HIS INTERVIEW WITH PETE NOWNEY, HERE GOES

DAVID’   OK THANKS AND NOW PETE, YOU HAVE JUST FINISHED YA GIG

AND YOU GOT A FEW PEOPLE DANCING ON THE FLOOR

AND I HAVE THIS LITTLE GIFT FOR YOU, IT IS THIS, HAVE A PEAK INSIDE

PETE’   YEAH, THIS IS WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED, A ***** DOLL

DAVID’   YEAH, BUT, IT’S NOT A ***** DOLL,

PETE’   NO, WHAT IS IT, SOME KIND OF TORTURE PRESENT FOR MY BIRTHDAY OR SUMMIT

DAVID’   NO, IT’S A ORDINARY DOLL, YOU ONCE TOLD ME, YOUR DAUGHTER LOVES DOLLS

SO I BROUGHT THIS IN TO SHOW YOU

PETE’  WELL, DAVID IT’S PRETTY RAD, I CAN GUARANTEE THAT MY DAUGHTER WILL LOVE IT

DAVID’   I NOTICED YOUR FIRST SONG, BEING THE LITTLE LOVE IN MY LIFE, IS THAT ABOUT YOUR DAUGHTER

PETE’    NO, AND YES, NO IT’’S NOT MY DAUGHTER, BUT IT’S ABOUT THE MOTHER OF MY DAUGHTER, YA SEE

WE MET ON THE SYDNEY HARBOUR BRIDGE, I NEARLY FELL IT WAS BAD, DUDE

DAVID’’     DID YOU GET TO SEE THEM ON CHRISTMAS

PETE’    YEAH, AND I HAVE MY DAUGHTER WITH ME, TO SING O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL, YA SEE EVERY YEAR

WE CHOOSE A CAROL TO SING, AND THIS YEAR, O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL, AND I KNOW IT’S JANUARY 3 2015

BUT I WOULD LOVE TO SING WITH MY DAUGHTER STEF, OK SHE IS 10 THIS YEAR

DAVID’   OK TAKE IT AWAY PETE AND STEF

PETE AND STEF’

O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL

JOYFUL AND TRIUMPHANT

O COME YE O COME YE

TO BETHLEHEM

O COME AND BEHOLD HIM

BORN THE KING OF ANGELS

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

IN CHRIST THE LORD

SING CHIORS OF ANGELS

SING IN EXULTATION

SING ALL YE CITIZENS OF HEAVEN ABOVE

GLORY TO GOD, IN THE HIGHEST

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

IN CHRIST THE LORD

DAVID’  STEF, YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL VOICE, ARE YOU

PLANNING TO GO ON AUSTRALIA’S GOT TALENT OR THE VOICE THIS YEAR

STEFF’   WELL, I WOULD BUT DADDY AT P.RESENT WANTS TO BE THE ONLY SINGER

IN THE FAMILY

DAVID’   OK THAT IS ALL, AND NOW OVER TO SUE, WITH ANOTHER DRINKING SONG

SUE’   OK HERE IS ANOTHER DRINKING SONG, FROM KENNETH

KEN’   I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE COCKTAILS WITH GORDON

YEAH, IT’LL BE FUN TO HAVE COCKTAILS WITH HIM

YA SEE DRINKING COCKTAILS WITH GORDON

IS WAY WAY BETTER THAN DRINKING WITH KIM

CAUSE KIM IS A BIT OF A *****, AND CRAZY TO BOOT

I  LOVE TO HAVE COCKTAILS WITH GORDON, AND SPEND ALL HIS LOOT

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BEER WITH YOU, SUE

YEAH, I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE MANY BEERS WITH YOU

YA SEE SUE LONGWAYS, I REALLY ADMORED YA FROM A DISTANCE

AND WHEN YOU DRINK BEER AFTER YOUR 3RD OR 4TH

YA WILL LET OUT A MIGHTY BIG SPEW

IT WILL LOOK DISCUSTING, OH MAN, IT WILL OK

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BEER WITH YOU SUE

CAUSE YOUR A TRUE DUDE

SUE’   THANKS KEN SEE YA NEXT WEEK, NOW HERE’S DAVID

DAVID’   OK, THANKS TO ALL OF OUR SONGSTARS AND PETE AND STEFF

AND THE OTHERS, SO SEE YA NEXT WEEK ON PARTY ZONE JANUARY 3

Squiggly Wiggly
The good little squid named squiggly wiggly
Wasn’t always such a good little squid
Squiggly wiggly had to learn her lesson the hard way
She used to go about her business all Wiggly Jiggly
She didn’t have a care in the world she always acted like a kid
Her parents never knew what she was doing or where she would stay
Whenever she was on the playground she was always a bully
She never tried to be kind or polite she never did anything fully
Then one day she had a shock
She was out playing around the block
Along came a shark who gave her a blow
She fell so hard she had to stand up slow
Off she went to complain to the others
Everyone ignored her even her brothers
And so she learned from that mighty shock
That its never nice to hurt or mock
From that day on the squid named Squiggly Wiggly
Was always a very kind squid

When you hold me
I forget to be insecure
About my size
About my numbers
About my body
I forget to worry
About my lumpy thighs
About my jiggly tummy
About my pudgy arms
You stroke each limb
And kiss every inch
As if none of it matters
As if you don't care
That I'm fat
You aren't afraid to touch
My cellulite
My bumps
My pudge
The things
Nobody else wanted
Nobody else would touch
Nobody else saw as desirable
You touch them
You hold them
You kiss them
You make love to them
You flat out love them
Because for some reason
You don't care

Sittin in High School
One of my fondest memories
Wasn't of sports
or seeing the pretty preppy girls walking around in mini skirts and loose v-neck shirts
Knowing that they are out of my league

Surprisingly it was the rare moments that I would put my head down in class
Just close my eyes and think
Slowing drifting into an odd state that I know we all know

The state of complete relaxation and the definition of calm
The time between zonked out and aware of your surroundings
The point where your ears are the only thinks that work right
You listen to conversations going on around you
Ones that continue over the top of you
Whispers gliding gently over the back of your head
Kissing your hair to reminding you there are still people in the room

But in all reality you could care less
Looking so peaceful, calm, and still
Arms folded and head resting upon them

If only people knew what type of demons you are fighting in that deceiving head of yours
Legs begin to twitch as you spring through an unfamiliar jungle
Being chased by a pack of rabid
Twelve foot long Caterpillars
They lay Seven feet high
Two foot thorns coming out of their fast, round, jiggly bodies
Mouth gaping like a cave
Teeth that resemble stalactites and stalagmites
Dripping with a bio-luminescent substance that has to be poisonous

You hurtle rocks and logs
Ninja slide under giant tree roots and low hanging branches
While running you must swat away gigantic ravenous butterflies
They are pretty, but not very nice

Sweat pooring from your body
Blood pressure is running through the ceiling
Panting heavy
Scared shitless

You make the mistake of looking behind you to see if you lost the beast

And you trip...
Falling ******* the ground with a loud thud
Starring up as the caterpillar leaps into the air and in slow motion comes down
Jaws open
Mouth watering
Stomach hungry
As he begins his decent your mind is blank
About to die

With no warning the ground below you disappears
Falling into a black abyss of nothing
The bottom appears quickly
You brace yourself to splat on the ground
As you hit the earth
You jump wildly in your seat with a loud yell...

The bell rings with the class gazing at you giggling
Filled with embarrassment   you pick up your things and quickly shuffle out of class

The people to the left of me want to get married, but not to each other. Mawwiage is a funny word. Gopher? Potato. Crawdad. Wobble. Jiggly bits. Harmonica. Put your arm on it, cousin. Guzzle. Doozy. An ornery snool. Troglodyte. Haysoos was a troglodyte, that's one of the most hilarious sentences I can think of. Dudebro and ******* are nice. Dankrupt. Barbie. The urban dictionary gave an example sentence using Barbie: if Barbie is so popular why do you have to buy her friends? Perhaps if I memorize that line and say it, I'll get a half second of laughing, showing I have the value to entertain others for about two seconds. That'd be a nice feeling. I'd feel peach-fuzzy. A woman is standing with a rainbow of candy in a ziplock bag. I can't make this stuff up. Life is so incredibly fascinating. Just kidding. But really, that's some bright stuff on display in her transparent bag.

I look down and see fat
I look down and see wide hips and wide legs and jiggly things
I look up and see jiggly arms and jiggly this and jiggly that
And I look to the side and I see the phat ***
I go to the gym
I see the muscles underneath
I work them
I love them
I try for them
And I smile at them
And I take care of them
And I come home
And I see bloated big belly
I see legs that are not all muscle
I see flaw and flaw and flaw and flaw
I try to change the mindset
I try
I tried
I am trying

Slobbering slime rolls off its mouth
creepy crawlies are marching south
evil eyes and jiggly jowls,
sinister laughs and winning howls
a flash of teeth
from underneath,
a throaty growl
you sit, try not to yowl,
the bed will hide its enormous bulk,
these evil things will never sulk.
A shattering cry pierces the night,
now it’s time to run in fright.
You run and run and run and run
trying to escape to a midnight sun
you search for warmth, you search for heat
you can hear the pitter patter of shuffling feet
down the hall you scamper and dash
running away from the smell of ash.
You open the doors to your parents room,
hoping to escape the metallic vroom,
you dash and scurry up on to their bed,
and snuggle between them, your feet by their head.
They wake and ask “what’s wrong, dear?”
You answer with a tale drench in fear.
But Dada and Papa only smile at you.
They say, “follow us”, and you do.
They take you back, and turn the light on,
And show you the monsters, but now they are gone.
In their place sit ordinary things that your imagination makes,
And you realize that the monsters are fakes.

My Murdered Miracle


so sometimes it seems a miracle may be murdered
  viciously visceral
with the shock
  and the shattering
  and the mangling of the emotions
    (and of course the inability to breathe as your soul is strangled)
      as your future is ****** over the cliff by an evil **** ******
    (and the fall may even be your fault)

yeah, I noe,
  not exactly a ******* surprise
if you've watched the decades of dying in my eyes
  or read my blog anytime after the age of 10
    (****, was that really the first poisoned when)

whatever whenever of forever later
  the sharpest shock
  the shardest shatter
the dank blank dead stare
  dried blood stains  
    un-resuscitated remains
      of what I used to share

my deep blue eyes
  open as wide as emotion allows
are riptide embraced
  into the motions beyond the shallows
    by Yur deep blue eyes
and I see straight into Yur soul
  instantly the fate of my soul
  (ooohhhhh, what I saw
     I had never even dreamed of seeing
       and You were the infinite microwave thaw
         to my forever frozen being)

**** I took the Doves of Love
  (these birds can't fly)
and with selfish enjoyment of every moment
  lagged in my movement
    towards where we were meant to be
giving them an over the cliff shove
  (why why why why why)

She is SHANNON
  SHANNON!!!
the MOST of the MOSTEST i've ever known
the PERFECT in every part and tone
  and She luved me
         SHE LUVed me!!!

I made her move and groove
  smile and giggle
  *** and then ***
    and then some

I learned and grew
  and she knew
I massaged and inspired
  until my tongue was tired
I held her as close as I could do
  and still have our heartbeats be two

**** i believed too much in my belief
  (beware the ides of grief)
failed to fast forward to what she needed
  and ended up behind what she needed!!!!

i met an angel
  and She wanted me...me
i met my angel
  and SHE Loved me...me

maybe you don't understand the historical universal infinite implications of what to you seems to be a simple detail...the coolest chick in the history of the world glowed in luving me (simply the singular most wonderful woman in strength intelligence hotness beauty empathy honesty silly sweet intensity kindness lust for life and ACTUALLY BEING ALIVE)

and i knew what to do. and it was going to give the me i've wanted to be. yo, i noe, **** i was way too slow.   FFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK

every single solitary second
  felt like the first
    excited nervous giggly jiggly
each kiss such a lip lock on joy
  that i missed the fragile of the real
    left with lonely chapped lips which shant heal



...but maybe a similar distant cousin miracle shall be the 2nd Best feeling ever that keeps him alive...

he met his angel
and even if she won't keep kissing him
he still gets to noe her right?
  Right?

once a month estrogen teaches girls the
meaning of happiness
by feeding them to the darkness of their own imagination.
once a month i see my incompleteness manifesting as physical imperfection
staring
staring me down at my ugly claw feet my jiggly thighs my soft stomach my mammoth arms my swollen eyes my misshapen eyebrows my thinning hair
even my fingernails,
the shape of my fingers all wrong

dis- (negation of) -ease can take up so many forms of expression, the likely venture in a coffee shop with espressos variants and mocha coffee, or the lattes and something else.

which hardly means Paul McCartney dreaming
up *yesterday or Robert Stevenson with dr. jekyll and
mr.vhyde - when the weaknesses of yours
express themselves naturally - you accept them -
the only riches are bound to health -
all others care nothing - take away the able body
or the mind - and you take social realities -
i remember running wild with Peter and Ciarán -
slobbering off car parks on people's heads with spit,
surviving mugging, getting underwear-wedged on
park fences - deciding to smoke *** aged 21 for
the first time - listening to Limp Biscuit while
playing pool and donning Samuel L. Jackson Kangoo
hats john otto, take 'em to the matthew's bridge -
****'s sake, the who?! long gone. moths frantic right now -
we walked the mall, the bought artefacts before
digitalisation took over - and the book was lost
among toilet-paper heaps - 'cos when you need
a ****** to wipe his **** you need to write a book -
to feel seminal and human.
like the way Ilford high-street changed from Jew haven
into Bombaystan - that Ilford is mythical -
clever cue to suit a hardened worth of wearing tuxedo -
Maggie in the Sky filled with Piggy-stockpile Metaphors -
white boy rap - coo or undo clue - the same
**** precipitates into brown men in autumn
salivated together with oak drop leaves -
so hey ***, how's my solo? good or not good enough
to churn a mirror scene at a party?
'cos the cool kids "hang out", i guess **** of butter either.
as abandoned poetics had it: ensure it rhymes.
but it was me Peter and Ciarán on the weekend -
hell-raisers before i started smoking dope -
oh come on! i just turned 30 i'm allowed slang -
it's not unruly to rule the rubric with some sentiment
without wish for retirement -
ah man, that ****** in South Park - Ciarán just
hanging there in mid-air - got a g-string to boot -
i have to admit, the smart ones in England got out
of the education system aged 16 - the dumb-*****
made it to university - connectivity came in even if you
excelled - the smart ones got out aged 16 -
dumb ones like us with immigration a surrogate
family of ideas kept it up to university level and received
jiggly-squat of **** to get bothered in encouraging
attention to the idea of society - gave up, rebelled,
started singing X Ambassadors' song like Christmas carols -
readying ourselves for our parents to die,
watching our parents watching their parents die -
readying for the squat - as i once said:
i know a place where i can bottle clean Evian water -
you have to pass the centurion guards that might
kick you in the head if you try feeding them your
hand rather than a sugar-cube... but that's fresh water -
some *** left a ceramic tomb where the stream runs
free. or the maxim from high-school:
take a picture... it'll last longer;
it doesn't matter, aged 18 through to 21 i was sticking
******* into my mouth to imitate a Roman rite of
passage -
just when Eminem came out -
and wrestling was a beehive with Kane and the Undertaker
and StoneCold - cheeky chic wahwah on the turntables -
but **** me that ****** on the park fence
by a centimetre missing Ivan the Impale(r)'s tactic -
at this point can come like an e-mail,
that @ stamp can **** itself... i'm ready...
it's the cinema that no one bothers with -
there for the taking - spitting on a man's head
from a car-park uppermost level -
getting ****** for the first time with white lightning
cider. Pete? lost his teeth, got a mother of a beauty's
worth of **** last time i met him in a pub -
Ciarán became a nightclub door gorilla -
well, you know my story -
it's hardly the twinning of the Krays -
although that was on the cards -
last time the high-school people were together
we were at the Beckton bowling-alley
jumping into plastered fake walls head-diving
until i broke the wall with a cranium of an elephant's
worth of horizontal canon-ball gravity propeller;
mind you, Beckton stinks of **** in the high
season of the recycling harvest - A13 via Barking?
i'm not too sure - i never bothered to learn to drive -
i took the Chinese route - bus stop wankers? sure.
bicycle wankers? tell that to the Beijing horde -
shame i boxed Ciarán's kidneys in once before
we were lessened in B-tech queuing to enter class.

Slobbering slim rolls off its mouth
Creepy crawlies start marching south
Evil eyes and jiggly jowls,
Sinister laughs and winning howls
A flash of teeth,
From underneath
A Throaty growl
You sit, try not to yowl
The bed will hide its enormous bulk
Evil will never sulk
A shattering cry pierces the night
Now it’s time to run in fright

Blue rinse  and set
home done.
Meant the colour changed every time,
from shades of pale lilac...
to electric neon light.
Always wave set never permed.
Hair too fine.

She was what they,
termed politely,
in those days:
"a large ***** woman."

Corseted nine to five,
in matrons whites.
Jiggly in a flambouyant orange muu muu by night.

A spinster, devoted to work and extended family,
large of heart and appetite.

A soft place to fall,
when the stonelike,
stoicism of my mother, became to harsh to bear.

I was flummoxed,
when in my teens,
I found a dog eared,
Kama Sutra,
in my blue haired aunts cupboard.
I can honestly say....

I learnt a lot... about a lot ...that day.

Let's not make any bones about it,
For I have no bones to pick.
Ah, and I've got you there,
for I am a sack of meat.

O, to live amongst the squids!
and be so jubilant and jiggly,
why, no pleasure's ever met my eye,
as that leathery wriggling beak.

Am I to blame for my misfortune?
Surely so, but of you I must ask,
what misfortune? Am I to assume
that because I have agency, I must fail?

Nonsense! And how fitting.
American manifest. Living
in a land, for himself, most befitting.
Laugh with me, for we live in Clown World.

This is the power of
the untamed duffle bag.
Vicious! O how vicious, his maw,
his all consuming zipper unzipped.

But my zipper, too, is unzipped.
Such a faux pas passes not
in our society, unforgiving,
unforgivable.
Original sin.

for the part-time writers, who write in deeds untill indeed

the mundane Mondays till the fully fried Fridays,
the too short beginning weekends when
you celebrate your lottery winnings,
mega millions of

chores

wheeeeeee

these some,
poet poem poetry, latter-day saints
yet to be arrived-arresting,
good lord,
writing time -
a time slot that doesn’t
appear on your unscheduled
cellphone
calendar

so this what needs remembering, us,

these days are the
storage days

the professionals screen stare, self obligatory
demanding the page output,
the disciplined work ethic,
self torture this work,
that they would pay to do

these some
access accessible accessories in actual time
when
a time clock is punching them back,
time immediacy, a mistress,
needing a wife’s daily attention

the rest of us accumulators,
hoarder-recallers; off-site monthly
storage unit renters for old reusable furniture memories

until the dissembling assembly of the pieces,
with the arrival of the year of the hour of the day
is an urgency spilling
and the consumption urge
eats you alive from inside out,
your patience is rewarded

no screen slave you,
just a spigot turned twice
and over flowing winks bring/ring
the-no-longer-stowed stored eye pics,
poems for a someday

and the waiting was worth the waiting price

some people
us, juggle jiggly *****,
tend to drop them all...
till we don’t...

The feel of you, it makes me hot,
To this, there's no denying.
You leave me aching little spots,
My hands,  in knots, are tying.

You make me sweat, and want to come
You make my ******* thicken.
Reach, and flick them with your thumb,
So my pulse begins to quicken.

There's nothing that could taste as sweet
As you, rolling on my tongue.
I want to slap you viciously,
Instead, my hair gets wrung.

Your hands, they pinch and poke and slap
All my jiggly wobbly bits.
Your tongue it finds my softest folds,
My senseless mindless ****.

I scream and rake my nails into
the bedpost where I'm bound.
You laugh and pound me harder still,
**** me into mattress-down.

Harder, I will squeeze you tight!
Squeeze you till we burst!
I cannot stop my actions now--
You bring out in me, the worst.

I'll forgive you when you let me come.
I'll forgive myself tomorrow.
When I'm an aching little **** again,
And you've left me feeling hollow.

When I was younger my best friend's sister asked me why my thighs were so much bigger than hers and without missing a beat I scrunched my eyebrows and said, "because my legs are so much stronger."
Since then my self-image is every teenage girl's sob story of not enough this or that, too much one way, too much in general
(i **** in my stomach when you put your arm around my waist)
and I've been trying to tell myself it's strength that matters,
but sometimes jutting bones seem like they'd hold up a little more than the flab of my stomach, like they'd put up a better fight against the sharp looks I'd give myself in the ******* mirror,
and maybe that's why I went from cutting my fleshy thighs to cutting my hip bones because **** my hip bones for being the only bones that weren't covered in fat.
I used to tell myself it'd be easy to skip every meal in exchange for 2 almonds and occasionally a piece of deli-cut turkey, I used to try for days to cut down on acceptable portions, and some days I'd win and I'd eat nothing and sometimes I'd win more and not think about it.
I used to try so hard to wrap my fingers around my ribs or to get my friends to stop saying my *** looked huge ("in a good way") but I was taught when young that overeating was okay because I'd sit at my plate until I swallowed everything that was given to me. I'd sit in the dark on nights I couldn't chew my chicken fast enough, since day 1 I've been a bad eater. I'd get yelled at for being full and now I'm always full but still eating and bones still seem stronger than my jiggly thighs and no, i can't wrap my fingers around my ribs, but if i **** in enough, i can see the outline

a cloud of smoke fills the air in a patio filled with laughter
friends circle round as we being to **** the dark green grass
fire rise up as he inhales the smoke from the long glass stem
he holds it in until his lungs collapse
then spews it from his mouth like a dragon breathing fire

a long pause fills the air until his lips form a grin
and we knew that his experience would being
he screams out laughter like a hyena breathing nitrous oxide
his eyes shift back and forth as he barley holds himself
he stops with total control
**** he says

I could feel all eyes staring me down as I look down at this magic bottle
a bottle that will send me past reality
that will push the envelope of my mind's customary perception
and show me things that I couldn't even dream of
far past my imagination
I inhale

my vision shook
and my fingers twisted
I began to sink into chair that I sat in
I could feel waves
waves coursing thought my entire body
and I felt jiggly like jello

I burst into the sky
flying through the inner tubes that hung their motionlessly
I felt the scratches of rubber
and still heard the laughter of children
but they were no where to be found

some how I ended up in my chair
still sitting there
with a river of drool hanging from my gaping jaw

the sky began to sway back and forth
like waves in the ocean
I reached for the sky saying I want to swim in the ocean
the harder I tried the more it pulled me away
until the ocean disappeared
and I was left sitting there
next to my friend saying

*pass me the pipe

Dear 17 year-old Laura,

Don't worry so much about being perfect
Don't push yourself to get the highest marks you can get

You certainly don't have to do it all
You deserve a break, even if it's small

You're beautiful
I know you may not think that but it certainly is true
Inside and out
Beautiful, that's you

Ignore the imperfections you see in the mirror
For only you are able to see
The "too big stomach" and "jiggly thighs"
You're gorgeous as can be

I know you're scared to graduate
You became comfortable in high school,
But the world is so much bigger,
Adventure awaits you

Please don't think that you're ugly
Boys will come and go
Focus on liking yourself
Though that's hard, I know

The summer did flash by for you
University hit you hard
Please don't be mad at yourself
For all your "unsightly lard"

You became ill and that's okay
None of this was your choice
It's not your fault you spiraled down
From listening to that voice

The hardest months of your life thus far
You sadly had to endure
Because you couldn't forgive yourself
Mental illness is a blur

Shame and stigma rotted your mind
Made you think this was your volition
Like someone gets cancer, you became sick
Becoming mentally ill wasn't a mission

Your life will slowly rebuild
The future will have ups and downs,
You should be incredibly proud of what you survived
Continue to fight those sounds

When I was young I learned to count numbers on my fingers.
                 As I got older I learned to count calories in my stomach.
When I was young I ran for fun.
                  Now I run in the hope that I can run away from jiggly thighs.
When I was young I didn't know what the words 'body image' meant.
                 As I got older those words sat in my mirror and waited for even my slightest glance to
                 torture me.
When I was young I loved mac 'n' cheese.
                Now I refuse it through my stomach's growling because it is just too many calories.  
When I was young candy was a treat and a delight to eat.
                 As I got older sweets got bitter and with every candy wrapper came another pound of
                 hatred.
When I was young I did not know or care that I was fat.
                 Now I know it and care about it every second of my life.
                 I've learned to put down the fork and pick up the knife.

To rolling mounds of splendor here I gaze
Enthralled by that which on my heart now works
None can their eyes avert from her these days
Once starts the magic of her awesome twerks

We know that once it starts it must soon end
For that divine bounced ***** cannot last
And be it love or lust there is no friend
Who can resist round **** and jiggly ***

Still there are those fanatics who repress
And Carnot says all things which start must stop
When not much more can this art form express
Than she may still achieve losing her top

So long as eyes can see and mouths can drool
So long will twerking make men into fools

I still can't clearly comprehend who my father was. The only way I can find him is by thinking of everything I refuse to be. I still have memories of my father that have never been extremely clear. I guess you could say it's as clear as the muddy glasses I put on every time I want to forget the loss. I lost the man I wanted him to be. A role model, someone to love my mother in every direction you could imagine, I wanted him to be a man. When I think of who you are I can't form solidified answers because to be honest I don't think we've ever met. Name's Jon. We share DNA but this isn't something I take pride in saying. The story maps of our denials are wonderful depictions of why we could never really talk about things. Things we can't fully understand. Like how I would deny things like how bad the weather is, that my tummy is a little to jiggly, or that I honestly can't say no to a good beer. Your denials are slightly different. You have denied leaving two boys for one wonder woman to raise. You still won't tell me you are sorry, because in your eyes it's the world against you and your disposition. You deny eye contact with those around you because we all know your soul is unorthodox and burns if you look into it for too long. You remind me of the inconsiderate ******* who leave their brights on driving down the highway, they leave me ******* and hard to see my future. As I reached deeper into the bucket of something inside me that feels, I realize we have a few similarities. We both don't know hot wot act in public situations. Running has always been our initial response when our hedonic treadmill starts. I don't want to start. So I cut out the pieces of my life that resemble the ***** smell of your presence. I use those moments for encouragement and to find power in the unforgettable.

I will never be perfect.
I will never be enough.
I just won't be,
to anyone.*
*My hair is too thin.
My thighs are too jiggly.
My **** isn't perky.
My face isn't symmetrical.
My body is unproportionate.
My stomach is chubby.
My ***** are awkward.
My voice is too annoying.
My smile is stupid.
My scars are too unattractive.
My problems aren't as bad as other people.
My depression is a nuisance.
My anxiety attacks are overly dramatic.
My PTSD is pathetic.
My personality is too complicated.
My laugh is obnoxious.
My attention span is irritating.
My needs are too much.
My heart is too damaged.
My foundation is cracked.
My dependance is exhausting.
My fears are childish.
My past is haunting.
My future isn't bright.
My soul is undeserving.
My insecurity is too strong.
I will never be perfect.
I will never be enough.
I just won't be,
to anyone.

i am a rubebnesque
type of women

and have come to
terms with that.

in fact:
i love my good
jiggly self.
did'nt always
but now i do.

generous *******, *****
and curved belly.
all proportionate
and healthy.

my man does love
my curves,
he can spend
hours carressing their
soft beauty.

they do not stop me
from doing most
anything i wish
although
commonsense dictates
i would not fit through
a too small a hole.

why is then, that when
walking down the street,
people feel they can
throw the word fat
my way...

She stands there staring at her reflection in the mirror
She wonders why her friends won't go near her
She pokes at her thighs wondering why they're so jiggly
And why when she's eating lunch, the girls are all giggly
She wishes she didn't have such a big appetite
She wants to enjoy the sight when she looks in the mirror at night.
This girl has a plan and hopefully the popular girls will give her a chance.

She stands there staring at her reflection in the mirror
She wonders why her friends won't go near her
She pokes at her hollow cheeks wondering why the boys look with disgust
And why everyone keeps asking why she isn't eating much
Her thighs don't rub together when she walks from place to place
And her cheeks don't bounce upon her face
She wonders why no one will befriend her
And as she walks through the halls, she still hears the whispers
Isn't this what they've always wanted?
She can't please anyone and she's always taunted
She gets weaker and weaker everyday
As she's slowly fading away
She tries so hard but it's never enough
Maybe that's why she has just given up.

you sit there jiggling to the music
buried in your old collar coat
chair slouching to a rapid beat
only your neck whip-lashing complaint

a son of an engineered father
lessons learned behind thick glasses
lost and leery in a dark venue
worrying that snow showers threaten

a life in limbo rushing to escape
just enough time to ‘peg down’ a genre
artificial is a thorn in your philosophy
as you took flight in fear of winter

-cec

Smithereens
we,
with, on, a truck’s van
speeding scrapping,
alas, vagabond voyage ceiling

Well, astral jumping from a car /cinnamonned sun/
isn’t hard then I see, creek

We,
the cloak, the moment and me the contracting,
a book of flights spread open, we
a discarding,
as its wing from gold smothered in
most blue sky and a red sign towards
embarking to a new life/face encrusting

Joy, lazy, lounged,
like a banjo in its autumn on a porch jiggly slouch,
strings light freeze at wind, clasp, then step up and
as the hitchhiker dance.

Amèlie, I caught your sound!
your theme, lastly away,
the accordion’s as of now met,
adopted in a knee’s set,
one leg around the other a mess.
Hanging springs of it, at edge.

Maroon,
eyes currently in wood carved,
steampunk clogs, clads there
fine.

Mellow,
whole body a cello,
from boots with folly drunk
through wood prolonging curved
to the “f”s at the end of ideas and
caramel hair known as falling leaves’
place.

This
will
be
a
great
something.

Laid open!
Further!
Hitter!
Onward higher!

Off,
so off
we
go

I will never be perfect.
I will never be enough.
I just won't be,
to anyone.
My hair is too thin.
My thighs are too jiggly.
My **** isn't perky.
My face isn't symmetrical.
My body is unproportionate.
My stomach is chubby.
My ***** are awkward.
My voice is too annoying.
My smile is stupid.
My scars are too unattractive.
My problems aren't as bad as other people.
My depression is a nuisance.
My anxiety attacks are overly dramatic.
My PTSD is pathetic.
My personality is too complicated.
My laugh is obnoxious.
My attention span is irritating.
My needs are too much.
My heart is too damaged.
My foundation is cracked.
My dependance is exhausting.
My fears are childish.
My past is haunting.
My future isn't bright.
My soul is undeserving.
My insecurity is too strong.
I will never be perfect.
I will never be enough.
I just won't be,
to anyone.

This is my body
Size 12, wiggle room
Jiggly thighs, 5’2
(And a quarter. It matters)
Overgrown roots blend
Into DIY blonde,
Somewhere in between
“Well kept” and “definitely depressed”
Acne scars, decently white teeth
Scar on my brow from that time I tried
Rollerblading into the sun, I swallowed the pavement on the way down. You can still see the cracks in my teeth, just underneath my laugh lines. I always tried to stay as positive as possible. No matter what.

This is my body, it holds memories like water weight.
Destined to burst, void of drains,
Man Made pores- formed from the inside out by cries for help that never surfaced.
Porous and calloused, found out that its purpose for a year straight was simply surviving.

This is my body. Flashbacks on a marquee, survivor’s hands painted nicely, so no one ever asked me why they were so *****, and broken, and ******.

This is my body
His dead skin under my nails,
Petrified.
Proof of a fight. scars on my arms
North of my elbow: survivor’s guilt in the shape of a Star, I spent last summer wishing night after night I wasn’t alive- I was so tired from pretending.

This is my body.
Latches like a leech to anything warm.
****** dry all of my loved ones in the year I spent spiraling,
searching for solace or sanity-
even safety. Found nothing but panic.
Nervous bird in a cage.
Narrow shoulders.
Boxer’s stance.
Dancing on the front line where I should have been to fight
Using my fists never worked.  
Neither did screaming “no, no, no”
Present until that very day. And now I lay silent.
Absent like a soldier, staring into space.
Trying to make sense of the shaking.


This is my body.
I have my mother’s eyes, her mother’s brain.
Black and white, strict like law,
Cemented in place for weeks at a time,
Then Moving at the speed of light, I cannot stop or I will die.
Creaky chest upside down, my stomach clings to my ribs.
Stand still until the room stops spinning
Or until my head stops hurting
And my legs stop shaking
And you stop when I ask you to stop
“This is my body” I whisper behind your hands as you steal all autonomy
I am left with nothing


This is my body.
He took it from me,
Did not even have to try to ruin my insides,
Did not blink an eye in the year I spent unraveling in front of everyone I loved,
Pulled out every lash I had, lost my job because of panic attacks,
But I am commanding it back.
I spent the last 6 months building from the ground up.
Spent the last 12 taking up the space I did not before.
The last 3 learning that it’s okay to.
I stopped apologizing in January.
I started yelling again in February.
It took that long to think anyone would ever hear me,
No one ever had.
This year I took my body back.
This is my body. Size 12, 5’2. Wiggle room.
Sometimes it can’t breathe right and shuts down in big crowds.
But this is my body and it is big and it is loud.
It takes up space, it is strong, it is pretty.
This is my body and for absolutely none if it, am I sorry.
Not a single part.