Hospitable welcome exploited.
There's a colonial scent in the hotel
And they say Islamists are peadophiles

The mirror on the borderline dictates fate:
Err we’re not letting them in!
Meanwhile

Our guys are innocent its fake news.
Meanwhile
Faces harden into hurting for a life

Time wastes away any life they might’ve met,
The shining bill that got them into bed
Perpetually puts it all to bed.

The Naked Emperor
Switches the lightswitch:
Dark abyss dark abyss  

Float into the sky
Submerge in a cloud
Watch Judith merrily

Chat to Aristotle
About the beauty of flies
That ripened your summer street air.

Ignore the clog of your throat.
Struggle struggle struggle for breath
Breathless sound whispers
That word:

A seventies child
Born in Wales, one of the four
Countries of The UK.

I remember brown as the colour
of the day.
Fabric embossed wallpaper
all the neighbours names, who married who,
who was carrying on, the alcoholic, the beaten wives,
Even, get this the peadophiles (or kiddy fiddlers as was known)
Dai the milk, Mair the bread, the shop of infinite items.

Rugby practice for dad, baking for mam
(Cake and babies) gossip over the garden hedge
Fish on a Friday a Sunday roast, hot sweet tea.
Bubble and squeak, post delivered before you
left for school. Mist on the mountain, dew on the grass.

Welsh valley life, sounds idyllic
but scratch the surface and a darker colour
than brown emerges. Petty squablings leading to
familial feuds, the Williamses don't get on with
the Joneses, and as for the Pritchards, less said the better.

School, local, no not for me. I was sent to a Welsh
School, taught and learnt the language denied to my
Parents by English politics. Cat amongst the pigeons there.
Did I think I was special? Ideas above her station. That's what
the neighbours say.

Well, you all had the option.
Dr Forbes FRCS
Delivered babies buried men and women
Loved by all, especially his lollipop sweets.

I wasn't a child to get *****, or rip wrapping paper
off of gifts, I liked to go under the stairs (like Harry Potter)
and read. I left the dirt for my sister born 4 years later.
Then in 1982 came my brother, tidy my mother describes it.
'74,'78,'82 poor dad to have to wait I say!

More pubs than chapels, more walking than driving
more rain than sun, more music than ever was sung.
The '80's came, and we had strikes, no electric, candles
toast made with a toasting fork over the fire.
No mines, no steel, no jobs.

Picket lines, dole queues, women in work
latchkey kids, Thatcherism, ******* times.
Falklands war, IRA bombs, Royal weddings
Tory rule

But, the fire in the dragon never went out
and Tom Jones still sings his heart out.
Cymru cysglyd gwlad y gân, deffrwch
nawr, dyma'ch tro.

Profiling peadophiles etc, is it the one with the *******?

'doubt it, has even cooked an egg this morning'

oh what, the-e trout!'

'give those bincoulars to me'

'so we're stuck in a cartoon are we?'

'yeah and no but the structure of its pretty much based on mud'

'like the way this towns run?'

'well i would say it picks a few people out yes.'

Who likes children these days?
I mean, they basically smell of peadophilia and poo.
So I find myself asking the question, what's worse a child or paedophilia?
i watched the film 'Matilda yesterday, and in one scene her negelctful adoptive parents leave her sitting in the sink covered in what is suggested to be poo.
Then it shows a sequence of her growing up.
just like poo decomposes *******
and just like many children are peadophiles in the making
because although they may not be neglected
they're thrown on the compost heap to grow
you know, compost? Like the big bags with the instructions, that's only vaguely mixed material, and is tended to according to the instructions or not at all.
So it goes, many adult peadophiles are just children
rolling around in the dirt.
(As much as anything that's a metaphor to say not the rich ones.)
I personally, enjoyed my childhood ****** abuse, so im assuming I was born a peadophile.
But then i don't beleive it's a mental disorder either as i don't believe in mental disorders - or even trauma.
I beleive in living life, and living a good one. In other words having fun.
Does that mean I'd ever harm a child?
Absolutely not.
As long as I'm making my own life choices.
Amen Ra.
Amen Lord.
Amen Aphrodite.
Amen Apollo.
Amen Athena.
Amen leprechauns.

Telephone slightly off the hook, miss Jefferson took a competent whack at putting it straight. Unfinished business, frequently results in misconception, which those on the other end of communication are then further subjugated to a lack pf understanding. Through manipulation, propaganda and patterns, sometimes just a misunderstanding of oneself, can be the cause of things seeming or even being out of sync with the surrounding world. But then you must ask what is it about me that makes this so? is it the buttery fingers of spirit at times? Or the miscalculation of events and dates when one grows older? Is it getting so **** near to something before being antagonized and then becoming nothing more than a victim of the system? I beleive every soul is stronger than the system. it just sometimes takes time and alot of patience - first to just put it out of your mind; and then play long. even if you make mistakes, just focuss on what you're good at - Even if you get bored  as long as your not sabotaging your cause, you can play youre ignorance up for fun. Or just generally attract attention from hidden cameras satellites and the like. I enjoy miming out my musical tastes when it comes to cameras. **** everyone else. So much is changing, and I'm hardly noticing it, I guess because i'm not on the stage of full operations. And if I was it wouldn't work. But to be honest it is a bit offensive having a peadophile represent the changes I want to make to the world.
in fact I imagine alot of world leaders aer peadophiles, they are aliens after all...