They were married in a seaside town that Morrissey forgot to bomb. The groom, spot lit white, held his bride by the waist. Dee, the groom’s younger brother, grasped an empty wine glass warily by the stem, like a dangerous flower.
The band began to play ‘Blue Velvet.’
“Oh.” Dee said, with sudden fairies in his eyes. “I like this song.”
“You do?” I asked.
“Mmm, yes.” He replied, and the fairies were gone. The bride and groom swayed on the dancefloor. “Get me another drink, will you?” He asked, holding out his glass.  “And be quick about it before I change my mind.”

I was in Room 12.  
The key-card blurred in my hand. Dee was falling over, laughing.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him drunk. As a rule, drinking was just another enemy - and in the same way that he pretended to drag from a cigarette, he would pretend to swig from a ***** bottle. He’d leave parties untouched, passing the alphabet test with colours. His lips would be wet, but he would never get ******.
I always wanted to get him drunk. For selfish reasons, mostly. He didn’t know how to lose control. His discipline made a mockery of me.
When I was young I thought that willingly ‘misplacing’ yourself was the pinnacle of artistic freedom - that you could not be found until you had been lost. It’s a funny thing – I envied him his self-control and yet I undermined it constantly, because sometimes when the moon was right and the computer monitor shone like a nightlight, he would open his mouth and let me push my tongue in without a fight. I wanted this from him, always. It was such a feeling of conquest; like my germs had won. I didn’t want to be another cigarette, another bottle, I wanted him to put his lips on me and give in, get a lungful, get a mouthful, get a hit. I wanted to scupper all his plans.

He flopped onto the bed of Room 12. He was too drunk to get undressed. I began shrugging off my clothes, rooting through my travel bag for toothpaste.
“Art?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
“Toothpaste. I can’t find my toothpaste.”
I looked over at him. He was smiling, very ****** and as blonde as hell.
"Aren’t you going to come over here and take advantage of me?” He asked, still smiling. He’d unpinned the flowers from his lapel and tucked them behind his ear. I let go of my bag and abandoned the toothpaste hunt.
‘Do you…want me to take advantage of you?”
He laughed without laughing, something that he was talented at.
“I don't know. Do you want to take advantage of me?”
Of course I did, that was a stupid question and he knew it. When I first met him, I wrote in my journal that I had met a very serious angel. Angels can only fly because they take themselves lightly, and so very serious angels are stuck to the earth. That’s how I saw him, stuck to the earth and meant to be flying. I romanticized him of course, like I romanticize everything. And now on the bed, with his hands in his lap like doves sleeping off a magic trick, how could I say no?
“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re incredibly ******.”
And I remember the way he smiled and closed his eyes and opened his arms, drunkenly embracing the air where I was meant to be, with the sheets creasing beneath him and his suit creasing too. The flowers behind his ear stayed put like they’d been painted in. I ambled over, half drunk, and I lowered myself onto his body. I kissed him. His mouth opened wide, he pulled me closer. My hands dislodged the flowers. My germs won just like the wine had won. I pinned an angel to the earth, and he was never meant to fly anyway, because for someone so light - he was far too heavy.

We’ve accomplished grace
In the eternal august night
To unchain a soul that is contrite
Her soft touch gave men a pleasurable fright
She made me endless dry nights
With a twist of the forthright sunrise.

I’m wondering
I’m wandering
In your vast spacious eyes
I’ll find exile in your fragrant dream
I’ll watch your promises steam
In the waning night
I felt the lunging freedom by the touch of your hand

To the glimmering dusk
We’ve failed to alternate
To the passing bliss
We reasserted
To your musky perfume
Angels tried to elaborate

Frozen words of wonder you maimed
A love hitherto acclaimed
Wintertime is upon us
Memorabilia
Worn dour faces
Grazed by memories

Wintertime is upon us
Lenient breaths
Defying the freezing weather
Like white cotton bursting into the air
Numbed fingertips
And cold lips
Winter was the season of you heart
Winter became the season of my life

Now loneliness is my last supper
The ice for my heart will scupper
I’m alone amidst the feral waves of sobbing
And my heart is drunk with its salt
The crescendo will exalt
Now I must repent
For the placid lament

scupper the dawn
   with curtains   redrawn
a self made mourning

It is better to try and fail,
Better to give it your best shot,
Than it is to let fear prevail,
To scupper the chance you have got.
To be afraid is natural;
Fears are real let us not forget.
But what you should fear most of all
Is a whole lifetime of regret.

All those chances you did not take,
Opportunities slipped away,
Those changes you chose not to make
Because you let fear rule the day.
But you can change in the future,
Many chances will come your way.
And even if you are unsure
Feel the fear, Do it anyway!

The bitter pills and the ruins of cotton mills where dreams where played out on looms and woven in the semi gloom of a half lit room by children so old,who were told to do as was told or don't do at all.

Some escaped to the drudgery of the great hall where Lord Diddlywhat would squat and pass praises like water to some lacklustre daughter of a man in the town,
half a crown a month and eighteen hours a day,threepence in the offertory on a Sunday to pray for deliverance.
Though none would come for the sun didn't shine on me and mine,only on them,
lardy arsed gentlemen,willowy ladies with squawking fat babies and nannies,grannies in every nook and cranny who fed on the fat of the land,
took the bread from our hands
took the love out of life and the life of our loves,
iron fists in silken gloves.

Now finished,
the thoughts of those times diminish with age but the rage still holds true against the blue stockinged brigade
who would raid on us,put the shade on us,despise and degrade us,use and then beat us,contused and confused we would still go and labour,
wrap ourselves in the looms and in half lit bits of the day,we thought it was the only way,
'til the war came
changed the rules of the game
it was never the same after that little spat
and we spat at the gentry
who stayed behind to do sentry duty as their duty demanded.
We branded them
the landed men
wouldn't work for them no more.
Let them go hang and sing for their supper
we'll scupper them yet,
but I forget
the fat don't get wet
they float.

The last scupper was a
****-up, a failed attempt
to discredit Iran.

The Ayatollah said that
Donny T was doing his
best to Hormuz.

Today, I’m well.
Yes.
Good.
I’m good,
I should say.
God?
God, no!
Good God!
Good.
Up-welling of wellness.
Bow tied:
A bow-tie-kind-of-day day.

Sun furtive.
Won’t be long.
Shouldn’t expect she’ll be long.
Yes, she.
Ephemeral.  
Resplendent.
Sheer she-ness.
Just a Walkers crisp of a bit longer.

It is possible, I might add,
She’ll appear a fraction different
To what one can reasonably be expected to remember.

Good!
I’m good.
That is how it is said, in these parts, isn’t it?
Are you good?
Are you…
Competent?
Up to the task, I mean.
Fit to fly.
Work-ready.
Which sort?  
Wearing odd socks, again.
Accentuate the good.
Try to.
Left and right; or the other way around:
Right and left.  
Or could be both… fancy that!
Cream and chocolate, hey, superb!


Today is a wooly-hat-kind-of-a-day day, is it not?
Prepare for the worst and hope for the best.
Lest there be gales.
What? No! Disaster!
Now, wouldn’t that be…
Wouldn’t that scupper things?  Do you think not?

I love my wooly hat.  
He’s got a name, you know.
Ru-pert.
Stitched with love.
Pompom-topped.
So warm, it is.
Ready for jaunts.
With Rupert.
Up Horsenden Hill.
Too hot, soon.
Best to toss it in the bushes.

                        -------


Perhaps I am under-dressed?
Am I?
Hard to know.
I’ll wear my bow tie again.
Yes, I’ll wear my bow tie when, that is to say, Assuming
The rules permit it.

God permits us
To revel a bit. Kick back.
Do you think God likes to laugh?
God, grant me the gift to laugh.  

                        -------

Oh,
Now,
Did you hear that?
Heating broken,
Not a peep.
Closed valve cylinder, limited warranty,
Manual unfathomable.

But,
No viable option.
‘Northfields Community Library Welcomes You.’
The toilets better be warm!

Has a petrol-head called Clarkson
run out of speedy road to park on?
Because of his late meal,
his producer got a weal.
Now his fans wail: “Oh Dear!
It’s a dead  end for “TOP GEAR.”

Seems the wheels have come off
for this brazen non-PC toff.
Is it the end of the ride
for Chipping Norton’s pride
and no clear  Right of Way
for chums Hammond and May?

No sensible man would scupper,
his own TV slot for a cold supper.
Yet there’s alpha males who dread,
TOP GEAR’S due for a feminist retread.
Go girls! Vroom! Vroom! Time for you instead.

TOBIAS

Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
sat b’twixt a ghoulish plight.
Will it scupper? Will it sow?
Will it flash amidst the snow?

Born a’time a’lost in wonder,
Plundered foolish lines a sunder;
Hot cross buns peer and sigh,
For Tiger Tiger caught their eye.



Louie Louie what d’ya do?
Made a mess with peep and view.
Did they ask? Did they beg?
Why’d ya need to flash third leg?

Seems to me, “just jokes and fun”
is man’s excuse for crime of stun,
For Louie Louie, clutching stick,
Will he exposed? (well obvs if *****).

My poetic side COSMOFUNNEL
wordsmith thanks tumblr in his noggin
ofttimes triggering babbling brook
to swell after deluge
becoming stream of consciousness runnel
carving, gouging, and liquidating topography
qua zee mow toe natural formed tunnel.

Digitally remastered and revised
since original version rejected, thus
writer released,  purposely leaked,
and flooded mass media
courtesy the following
self branded watershed vaunted unabridged
sprawling questionable and deplorable
creation loosed upon unassuming readers.

Analogously linkedin with
once upon a time
one doodling dandy Yankee slender man,
whose yang upended, overshadowed,
and eclipsed mine yin,
nevertheless, now yours truly self anointed
as an elder statesman - ha
gifted with unwanted
inxs of abdominal adipose tissue
(attributed to agent provocateur of aging,

which affects my metabolism
and/or courtesy
unwanted side effect reaction
from one or more
of the eight medications
nurse practitioner
at Penn Psychiatric Center
Phoenixville, Pennsylvania location
Elizabeth Clark prescribes),
which gained weight foments tussle

a fight to the death, I can never win
and alternately titled: arm ugh gut tin
yours truly loathes to mensch shin
one alien looking pear shaped
humanoid with redskin
liposuction advised courtesy Doctor Quinn
(a fictional character and magician,
I took poetic license
created above to help eradicate body dysmorphia),
she waved her wand and ****
transformed me into a puffin.

Aye dread getting undressed
and/or getting washed
even without spectacles
thar haint no mo' six pack ab,
which nearly rock ribbed
mid equatorial zone shape shifted
into corpuscular blubbery
ancillary physiognomy
where aye wanna bab
bull posttraumatic stressed out

middle age battle of the bulge
in summer re: a waisted effort
squarely (er rather roundly) testing
the elasticity of extra large sweatpants,
when straining to hide expanding girth
definitely producing undesirable effect,
(especially when floating in briny deep,
I squarely, honestly and closely resemble
the Chinese brother
who swallowed the sea  

strongly urging, necessitating,
and exhorting mister crab
to clamp down with pincers,
viz primitive liposuction,
whence rustling scupper
will efface this fleshed out
human bloviated ruggedly handsome
man of the webbed wide world
a bit heavy around the equator
over self indulgent fleshpot

unable, uneager, unready,
and unwilling to maneuver
his portly ill proportioned body
inducing unprovoked stares,
and tears for fears
eyes tracking billowing supersize shirt
resembling trireme sails being trimmed,
where fleshly freighted sloop
displaces entire watery expanse
stranding, stinging and starving an a ray

of underwater species,
now prolonging requisite inhalation;
I seek desperate sticktoitiveness
guidance courtesy Younan Nowzaradan
with steely mettle
hie trite to iron out flab
thus tis part and parcel of senescence,
yet auxiliary buttressed dermis
effect forming gorged girth
giving "love handles" grab

reigniting reign of terror
viz prepubescent anorexia nervosa,
boot strapped now - wen
remembrance of things past frankly
zapped distorted self-image
evoked holocaust images repugnant;
buttery rolls of fat insta jab
stubborn thoughts of self-loathing
entice me to become a lab
bore a tory guinea pig/
scapegoat role to restore

prime of life build when five foot ten
obviously me no Lemuel Gulliver
alignment could now perchance nab
first place in a slick couture magazine
from the neck down,
cuz face mottled with
nine inch nails clawing skin
wrought unsightly scab
taut torso bearing
fashion model and
senior citizen idol, where
every place I go receiving
venue offers free tab.

To stand stock still until shutterfly
would SnapChat
rippled tummy, could
fill my hungry wallet with inxs of cash
now, aye haint so gorge ***,
WhatsApp with
faux pregnant protuberance,
though thankfully
derriere still rather dash
shing, which palmolive pilot sized buttocks

doth newt offset sorry to report
lost battle of the bulge,
where diet tribes furloughed in a flash
abandoning their respective stations,
gnome hatter sinusoidal
parabolic frontispiece finds me to gnash
my toothless mouth for lack of means
to stave of the depredations
of slump pin proletariat
allowing me a hash

sheesh priceline tag
with hefty weight, acquiescing
this Pillsbury doughboy blivet
to subject himself to the sharp
stings of a cool whip lash
bearing the snap against
raw skin as due process
and supplication for atlas shrug
gin his broad shoulders
at the fountainhead naming me mash
shew Scott in regard to oblate inflation
insulation fiberglass around midsection, and

how ma late mum
(an avid fan of doctor Carleton Fredericks,
who preceded Mehmet Oz), would quash
the love she showered on this sole heir -
resorting to exhaustive palliatives -
even ear rash
shun null gambits,
and as last ditch effort
putting this offspring
on par with an albatross -
vamoose get out with the trash
unless everything (pertaining to
indelible stubborn blubber
comes out at the whoosh she wash
Diet of worms.

you can scupper, wreck with war, do all you can to destroy,
but in the end puny creatures
it is impossible to stop the 'Will of Love'.

YES ... Something For THEM ... !!!
Those In The Audience Whose Acts Are ... " Pretense " ...

PRETENDING Their ... " Friends " ...
When They Really STAND AGAINST ...
The Ways Some EXPRESS Through Raps And Poems ...

SOME Like ME ...
Whose Poetry Invites The Weak ...
To Go And SEEK Some ... THERAPY ... !!!

Fiends Who Scheme BEHIND The Scenes ...
To ... SCUPPER Dreams of Speech That's FREE ............................

Speech That Deals In HONESTY ...
Because They Keep Their Closets DEEP ... !!!

DEEP With Secrets ...
FILLED With WEAKNESS ... !!!

SECRETS Kept They Should Accept ...
Rather Than DENY The LIES They Hide ... !!!

The Types Who ... "Confide" ...
About Their Lives To OPEN Minds ... !!!

OPEN Minds That ... " Sympathise " ...
Until It's Time To ... CRITICISE ... !!!!

Well I'm THAT TYPE Who Is NOT SHY ...
To Put Their Lives Where They ... DON'T LIKE ... !!!

YES I'm THAT GUY Who's SICK and TIRED ... !!!
of Snakes Whose Brains ... REFUSE To Face ...
The Simple Truth About Their Moves ...

They're A Little TOO QUICK To RUN THEIR Lips ... !!!
About Things They Want Kept ... "PRIVATE" ... ?!?
But Here's The Bit That Makes Me SICK ... !!!

Things Said To THEM That They DON'T LIKE ...
Are SECRETLY KEPT ... Inside Their Minds ...
To Cause PROBLEMS ... Further Down The Line ..........

Meanwhile They SMILE BEHIND ... "Snake Eyes" ... !!!

Those NOW KNOWN As A TWISTED ***** ... !!!
Who YES Are Prone To ... QUICKLY Snitch ... !!!!!!!

Like Those Now Reading These Lyrics ...
Who Are Sitting There Wishing That I'd Get HIT ...

By A ...... STRAY Bullet ...... !!!

Because My Views When Using Words ...
Is Built To HURT Like Bullets BURN ... !!!
I'm NOT Concerned With Worms Who TURN ... !!!

UNTIL They TURN ... TOWARDS Big Virge ... !!!
REMEMBER What You've Learned From That Last Verse ...

Because VIOLENCE ... I DON'T DEFEND ... !!!
This Is Something For THEM To COMPREHEND ... !!!

Like Immortal Tech ...
I Will Transcend Through Life And Death ...

O.G ... Oh YES ...
An ORIGINAL Gent Who Is ... " God Blessed " ... !!!

So Wherever This ENDS It Begins AGAIN ... !!!
FAKE Friends You SELL Your Souls To HELL ... !!!

You'll FEEL The WRATH of Virge ... !!!
... WHEREVER You Dwell ... !!!!!

The ... " Connoisseur of Words " ...
Simply REPELS ........................................................

Snitches Who SELL ...
Their Souls To The Devil Like ... " Doctor Jekyll " ... !!!!!

Those Who HECKLE My Spots Like FRECKLES ...
WON'T Like How I Settle Their Attempts To WRESTLE ...
My Views About Life When I DROP My Diatribe ...

The Types Who TRIGGER ... ITCHY Fingers ... !!!
VIOLENCE As I've Said ... Is NOT My Vibe ... !!!!!

But Virge FEAR Death ...

"Son think again !
We're all gonna die, cos' that's part of life !"

But MURDEROUS Trends OVER Arguments ...
And Differences ... Now NEED To END ... !!!
As Do FAKE Friends Who Cause PROBLEMS ... !!!

But TRUST in THIS If It Comes To THAT ...
I'll SPIT Lyrics Like GATS Go BANG ... !!!!

EVERY Last Word Will OPEN Urns ...  
OPEN For THEM ... Like The Poem Says ... !!!

I've Got Some Things ...
I NEED To Bring That May Well STING ... !!!

Are You Still Reading ... ?
Cos' I Can Hear Them Now ...
YES ... " Whispering " ...................

"Let's shut him down, him and his mouth !
We'll make him wish, he had no lips !"

Is That What They Think ... ?
... " NEW AGE FASCISTS " ...
Supremacists And Hypocrites ... !!!

I Guess They Do ...
Well Here's The Coup ...

I'mma' DO My Thing ...
NO MATTER What They Think ... !!!

DON'T Like My Views Or How I Move ...
Well OKAY That's COOL ...
Cos' I DON'T Like YOU ... !!!
OH YES ... It's TRUE ... !!!

NEVER Really Did ... !!!

See I've Learnt Some Tricks ...
From ******* Who SNITCH ... !!!!!

See I'm An HONEST Man ...
But NOW ... Hold Things Back ...
From Girls And Boys Who Use Dud Ploys ...

Just Like TANNOYS ...
I Can Make SOME NOISE ... !!!

But DON'T EVER Think ...
I've Lost My POISE ... !!!

EVEN When I Drink My Mind EMPLOYS ...
Ways To .............................. AVOID .....
Those Who ..... ANNOY ...... !!!!!

I'm WATCHING Fools ...
Who Think They're ... " Cool " ... !!!
But Choose NOT To Lose ...
My ... PEACE FILLED Groove ... !!!

But JUST For THEM Imma' Say it AGAIN ... !!!
VIOLENCE ... I DON'T Defend ... !!!

But My ............................................................
................ SILENCE ..............................................................

May Mean Your END ...
Cos' it Probably Means You're In MY HEAD ...

Where You ... Should NOT Be ... !!!!!
If Your Life ... You NEED ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That's A WARNING You SHOULD HEED ... !!!

Those Ensuring ... WARS Are Seen ...
ALL This WARRING'S Giving Me ...
... HOMICIDAL Tendencies ... !!!!!!

ALL I NEED Is ENOUGH Money ...
To Keep Me AWAY From Those Who ...........................Sway .....

In ... DEVIANT Ways ... !!!!!

I'm NOT AFRAID So DON'T Mistake ...
My Use of Verse As Simply ... " Words " ... !!!!

Of Course They ARE ... !!!
But THESE WORDS Mark The Path For Darts ...
I've Got EARMARKED For ... YELLOW Hearts ... !!!!!

That's Where I'll END This HERE Poem ...
Cos' NOW The Snakes KNOW ...

I've GOT ...

...... " Something for THEM ! " .......