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Micheal Wolf Mar 2013
Pandora lived within her box
Listening to the noise outside
Every time she sneaked a peek
You guessed it, another freak
So she held the lid down very tight
Slept alone every night
Her friends would share a laugh and joke
Thou Pandora had no hopes of love
When one day whilst out the box
She wiggled her toosh and didn't know
Her toosh was seen to wiggle past
A quite delightful site in fact
Off she popped and closed the lid
Nothing more was ever said
One day a stranger, a curious type
Thought the lid was far to tight
He opened it up to peek inside
Pandora startled with surprise!
Hot and bothered red in fact
That he had dared to even try
The cold that she had made her world
Was melting and she was quite perturbed
So once again she closed the lid
Warm inside she couldn't think
A tingle here a giggle there
Pandora now was really scared
Now Pandora isn't locked away
She just made the choice to be that way
With good reason to with all the freaks!
The choice is hers to stay or leave
We all know about boxes
Our English language? A curious thing!
Hammers don't ham and fingers don't fing,
Grocers don't groce and ushers don't ush,
And why is a rear called a toosh, not a ****?
What is the plural of mitt? Is it mitten?
And what's a caboodle if there is no kit'n?
Do women count coins when they go through their change?
Is all lucre filthy? Are bedfellows strange?
You can't have the willie, the heebee or jitter,
And patter is noisy unless it's with pitter.
If a guy's queer, is he gay or just odd?
And if a girl's skinny, is she still a "broad"?
Can you do a flip? That's an interesting word...
Flip a house or a pancake or even a bird!
You'd never say fum without fee, fi or foe,
And why do we go to the bathroom... to go?
Slim chance or fat, they are one and the same,
And **** can be naughty unless it's your name!
So if you love words and you don't take them lightly,
You'll find by and by that you can-can write rightly!

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/war-of-the-words#ixzz35Z943NKD
Family Friend Poems
Our English language? A curious thing!
Hammers don't ham and fingers don't fing,
Grocers don't groce and ushers don't ush,
And why is a rear called a toosh, not a ****?
What is the plural of mitt? Is it mitten?
And what's a caboodle if there is no kit'n?
Do women count coins when they go through their change?
Is all lucre filthy? Are bedfellows strange?
You can't have the willie, the heebee or jitter,
And patter is noisy unless it's with pitter.
If a guy's queer, is he gay or just odd?
And if a girl's skinny, is she still a "broad"?
Can you do a flip? That's an interesting word...
Flip a house or a pancake or even a bird!
You'd never say fum without fee, fi or foe,
And why do we go to the bathroom... to go?
Slim chance or fat, they are one and the same,
And **** can be naughty unless it's your name!
So if you love words and you don't take them lightly,
You'll find by and by that you can-can write rightly!
feel free to LIKE COMMENT REPOST AND FOLLOW
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
honestly? if i could be accused of being an anti Semite:
could Freud be called a Semite in the classical
sense of: say, scuttling like a "rat" in sneakers
on... hmm... why is it that when i type on
Day of Judgement... i first receive results for the Islamic
concept of Yawm ad-Din,
   and not... oh... right... i'm thinking of Yom Kippur...
i used to lived next to a synagogue...
i'd love watching these rug-a-muffins with their
curly "dreads" scuttling into their hiding wearing
sneakers... because they couldn't be bound to any
ownership of leather... no leather shoes...
no leather belts... yeah: and i was considered a lunatic
once... get enough people on board...
no secular psychological lion to stress you out
as some weakling away from the herd...
but with Freud? i'm a ******* SS-mensch...
i abhor him... interpretation of dreams?
  hey, Freudy-ol'boy... i think i just dreamed of
the birth of an oyster... i think i might as well
have shoved my head backward like the freefall
head-first of a Lucifer back into the source...
i think i was literally dreaming of how oysters
reproduce... curious little boy that i am...
    i hate Freud with a passion... to me he's not even
a ***... he's just a high-brow intellectual
readied to pamper to the needs of 19th century
aristocratic ladies having to be married to the likes
of Huysmans' Jean des Esseintes...
or Baron Masoch... Venus in Furs...
                      things... change...
         mutatio omnia...
                         all is subject to change...
                Copernicus is rigid... Freud... eh...
not so much...
                               there are fluctuations...
Freud is not rigid...
        his intellectual outpouring is subject to change...
unlike Marxism with it's rigid idiocy...
because its focus is on the personal level:
i... i return to the archetypes...
               Freud can't do that for me...
i do that for myself...
                   imagine a lion yawning when
watching a boxing match... because... the spectacle
per se is boring... he has to take care of this
mental "******" having a panic attack...
i can't imagine being this abusive to my mother...
a ******* train about to derail...
    even she said... as i sat down and talked with her...
trying to comfort her...
in my scenario: my mother would be crying...
while i'd be the one making last judgement remarks
about the society i'm living in...
in her case... she's the stern one...
while her son is crying... having a panic attack...
while i'm trying to hug him... comfort him...
i'm the one who drinks half a litre of whiskey
and then gets a double hit from adrenaline
while cycling...
   thankfully i had this... i'll mention race...
once... i'll mention race... once...
thankfully i had this black steward under my supervision
that helped me sort this sack of **** out...
like... what's the ******* stereotype?
akin to: one flew over the cuckoo's nest...
that... all the head-cases were handled by black guys...
are they more tender? are they motherly...
lion-prone imitation? and i'm the ******* remains
of a Mongol horde... i too can be tender...
touch touch... but black guys are tender creatures...
i don't even know what that meme was about...
about them being Orc... what African tribe ever
left Africa to invade some other piece of land...
well... beside now... but now they are invited
by the masochistic ruling "elite" of Oops-orp-U...
        even at the Fury-Whyte match i was wondering...
why have these two gals walked out of the VIP
restaurant, the 1-20... 1-120 club... club Wembley...
whatever it's called... conversation sort of claustrophobic
in there? a great bake of ***...
mind you... i can get the same for £120 per hour...
i don't need to spend £3000 and a date for a boxing match...
Mammoth doesn't discriminate when it comes
to females selling their sexuality...
just standards differ... beauty in the eye of the beholder
sort of *******...
         sure... nice piece of bagels... but not worth
£3000... i can get the same for £120 for an hour's
worth... hey... that's how life goes...
    why i abhor the Madonna-***** Complex
and why i'm invested in the ******-Cougar Complex?
beside the grannies... i'd **** anything that moves...
or maybe it's to do with...
   oh... this story i heard... see... i was born
with a Chernobyl tattoo... a birthmark on my right shoulder
blade... a sort of mark of Cain...
later down the line i had it removed...
which implies: loss of muscle from the shoulder blade
area... now i have excess muscle surrounding my
shoulder blade...
        but anyway... when i was born... silence...
then the nurse that was taking care of me...
tried to choke me... **** me... which... translated
into an enlarged heart problem...
  i was also ridden with a hernia...
                blah blah...
                        if i have any animosity towards women?
it's unconscious... which translates as:
transactional, purely ******...
   to hell with looking for a Madonna...
that part dropped off... i just took the ***** part
and made it into a ******-Cougar complex...
            and i like tending to people's needs...
                                   but i'm also, strangely: misanthropic...
when i need to be... i am...
when i don't need to be: the recluse i become...
i just can't stress it enough...
  you know: when you've been hurt by women
on an unconscious level...
as a baby in hospital... because of a Chernobyl
strawberry mark on your back...
hell: if they hate you so much from birth...
what are you going to do?
hit them back with love... go to the prostitutes...
**** the priests and psychiatrists...
you want to touch... feel around the other's
body like a blind worm... like an octopus...
wrap the whole of your 6ft2 100kg around
them... make them as tender as an oyster...
gulp them up with ever kiss every slobber...
every plum tattoo of the pelvis as you ram them
into convulsions of mini-spasms of Morse-Code
ecstasy...
         but i hate Freud with a rare passion...
that doesn't translate to all other Hebrews...
                 i find revulsions when orientating myself
around his intellect... his supposedly
rigid... archetypical findings...
                   the dissemination of the herd...
                       **** me... i need the herd intact!
so few are the calibre's worth of being... stealth...
of being predatory...
             at work i'm always of this mentality:
there's no ******* psychologist's couch safety net...
it's the closest i've come to my daydream
of having joined the army...
          but... conversation comes first...
physical stress comes later...
          if at all... like only two days ago... with that
panic attack sack-of-****... being mouthful to my stewards...
appease this little ****** as much as possible...
i don't want to use force... hey presto! it worked...
he did eventually sit down next to his mother
and watched the match... even she said...
i lived in London for 15 years... i know where i'm
going after the match... but he doesn't...
he doesn't have any money on him...
so i said to my black: yes: BLACK steward...
good job... don't worry about it... he has a mobile...
she has a mobile... they'll be able to find themselves...
- but i hate Freud with an anti Semite passion...
even though i'm prone to the occult...
an advocate of the Kabbalah... because...
Ha-Shem has all the necessary requirements
of phonetic sense in Roman script...
   because Ha-Shem didn't destroy the Roman script
like he might have and did...
destroy the Egyptian hieroglyphs
                 and Persian cuneiform...
   since the Romans never enslaved the Hebrews...
the Hebrews which became the Yids in Germania
were allowed to flourish...
    even under Casimir the Great they were allowed
to flourish in ******-lack-lands...
   and that's because of, what? they brought us a
Trojan horse equivalence of a suffering on a cross?
subdued "us"?
         i hate: equally... Freud as much as Christianity...
kneeling... giving ******* to some concrete
emblem of... the biggest troll of hell:
the Lord of Mosquitos...
     Ba'al Yah'Toosh...
                          come to think of it... there's Israel...
so why am i still "thinking" about the diaspora
of Yids all around the world?!
  ****** was a vegetarian...
                    Eva Braun had Jewish genes...
   you think, her masterplan wasn't
    for the resurrection of a Jewish nation:
  to be finally freed from being subconsciously
"European" and... strike the hornets nest
of Islam?
                         Helen of Troy...
           Elizabeth Bathory...
                       ****** Mary... yeah... only men were
ever evil...
          i'm starting to think that Henry VIII
was a mild mannered man... until...
   he stepped into a pile of **** of ****...
                      best bet... with prostitutes...
i'm trying to understand why so many men are
hung up on women they can't keep...
me? i'm clueless as to why my cats like me...
and i'm still trying to figure out
how people can post adverts for their: "lost cats"...
eh... "lost"? cats don't become lost...
they just figured out: you're a **** keeper...

    gingers... Jemminah... ah man... when i cycled past
her walking with the most un-remarkable looking
man... sort of her height...
i knew something went terribly wrong...
intimidation... i must have intimidated her...
bringing along my own home made wine...
and my home made banana loaf...
reading her boy's poem out-loud to him...
like Frank O'Hara i hate the colour orange...
but i love oranges...
   and i love ginger haired people...
add some curls to the canvas...
we're talking...            no... we're not talking...
Jess Glynne... we're imagining...
                 i guess i wasn't looking for a Madonna...
and she figured it out...
that's why i hate Freud and that's why i hate
him by doubling up on coupling him with
a *** perspective on European matters...
that's why i once made it prominently known:
i'd rather drink my own *****: which i did...
than drink the metaphorical blood juice of red
wine... then i'd puke on the crucifix...
rather than **** on it...
                     emblem of too much easily
available fixations...
                        no thank you... i don't need
a woman attired in a niqab when i'm freely in possession
of a *******...
if i could: i'd take the snip... if i were guaranteed
a leash akin to a niqab on a woman...
but i still don't understand why it's
only called circumcision and not MGM:
male genital mutilation...
        is that some sort of a libido trick
i'm not "yet" aware of? does China or India
have the same methodology?!
   i think they don't... not with their population size...

my mother was never mothering...
i'm sort of lucky...
she cries before i get a chance to... probably laugh...
implanted in me... the archetype of a blonde...
that soon died... recently a hunger for
girls with ginger... curly hair woke me up
to a new pursuit...

if i were looking for a Madonna...
ugh... sick... Freud...
    i wouldn't be looking for a woman to tend
over me... if i had children... yes...
over them...not me... leave me: the **** alone...
and how it's framed: all the fault is relied
on man's existence: per se...
this per se: is crucial... without men...
you couldn't implant these sick: Semite ideas...
into crushing the European soul...
it's like these Semites are fighting two wars...
one with the Arabs: the actual war...
but with the Europeans... a spiritual war...
so... why ******* this **** far north?!

o.k. Kippah brother... you know what happened
to Balaam?
            you will not lead these letters into extinction...
you made your offering... of the crucified man...
now the crucified man is making a comeback:
let's change him a while...
redress him from a crucifix packaged into
an iron maiden, how's that?!

right now... i'm *******... and i'm rarely ******
off... but now i'm ******* fuming!
i'm scratching my nose... i'm pinching my lips...
i'm looking for my forehead...
all the more looking at the people
most oblivious to change...
            
                no! i will not be sexualised by someone
who has been deformed by genital mutilation!
i will not accept his intellect! ******* ******...
nein! nie! niet!
             i'll only accept uncircumcised intellectual
arguments... by now... yes! i'm a ****!
in the broadest sense imaginable... i love the uniforms...
god... give me a Hugo Boss schwarzanzug...
                  i don't hate the Hebrews...
i just hate the intellect of one Heb...
                         with a William Hazlitt follow-up...
i am not going to be pacified into
a **** **** of an Islamic invading party...
but i will fast with them...
like i told them: it's not for religious reasons...
fasting gives me a chance to concentrate
a little bit more...

                            but... honestly?
most of the people i'm working with...
they'd be better suited to an extermination camp...
they're so ******* useless...
you can tell they have been borne from
an uninhibited ****** thirst...
        they're useless...
   a space... a time... but function? no...
that's missing... like a head might be missing
on a worm... oh... wait... worms
don't have heads... just mouths...
         i pretend thinking that these Muslims
have eyes... or ears... but i mostly see heads
that resemble mouths...

well if the leftist media wants to conjure up Nazis...
hey! hey!     oi! oi!
                                     like my once known fwend
once stated: plenty of Nazis in Poland...
so... not in Ukraine?!
            whatever...
lazy-*** Somalis...
                      i think i'd be a good gas chamber
operator; because i've reached that point
where...
           people exist... for no ******* ulterior
reason... they are just rigid... chess-pieces types...
retards...
         or they pretend to counter authority
with some ******* scam argument...
                 it's simply for me...
                                       i'd be a great gas chamber
operative... i might blink once or twice...
but i'd most certainly yawn...
                   i can't the believe the animosity for humanity
stirred up in me...
             it's almost: godly...
i'd feel less if i were allocated the status of farmer
and required to keep company with a herd
of cattle... this isn't cattle...
this is a splintering pseudo-herd of a mix
of scammers... busy-bodies... sure... the large proportion
is compliant...
         but the rest? what could give either or them
more relief? shackle them... or gas them?!

i don't know... it must be an ancient curse of feeling:
when... people are uncooperative...
the whip and lashing sort of comes out in me...
the army-esque rigidity...
it makes me feel like i want to shave my beard
and just keep the moustasche:
   like some British Empire officer...

           i abhor thinking these thoughts...
    but they are, necessary, they are the required learning
ground in order to inhibit their execution...
to their fullest extent...

      i need to think these thoughts through
in order to not enact upon them...
i need to curb my impulses...
coupled with: showcasing them... better i show them
than hide them, ferment on them...
and later... much later... do the much
utter worst...
            
                      i hate Freud... seriously...
all he had was internalized masculinity? there was...
nothing... external?! all man... women
sort of "stopped" existing?!
women stopped existing during the 19th century...
which... made them non-accountable: primo!
during the 21st century...

                              no wonder, then... why wouldn't
Islam pounce! at the freely available
****! it's not "our" women would ever mind...

me? i'm just trying to clarify the collective
narrative... it's nothing personal...
         i'm walking with Horace... i simply don't
care;
   why would i care? for "western europe"...
we're the non-existent jokes of Alred Jarry...
"eastern eruope": via language...but geographically
we're CENTRAL-EUROPE...
   yeah: here's your *******, glorious: SUNSET...
you generous *****!
                        i think that's what always ******
off the Russians... that they were...
relegated as pseudo-Mongols...
                      even though: Kiev was founded
by Swedes...
                       that would **** me off...
                                 if someone kept labelling red:
blue... i'd get *******... on a microcosm level...
i would... i would become so *******...
i'd loose it! simply!
                                     i'd start a war...
why excuse the Iraq or the Afghanistan invasions?
seriously? this side of history?!
**** it... if they can invade Iraq / Afghanistan...
why not us?!
          any news from Syria?
                          
the world can ******* and be the world it
chose to be...
i'm just thankful that... massive lizards
were made erased and these weren't
massive insects.
Brent Kincaid Jul 2015
I’d like to make a wish.
Do I get a wish or is
Society taking a pish?
I wish some people used mouthwash
By the gallon every week
Because they reek.
And, I am not talking bad
No, I am sad to say
They take my breath away
And make me **** in
Like I am hitting good ****.

They really need to brush
Then floss, then swoosh.
Or, I could kick them in the toosh
And scream in their face
“You’re a disgrace!
Surely you don’t kiss your mother
With that breath that could smother
And render her gasping
Grasping for one more breath
Before her death from asphyxiation.
So, for the betterment of the nation,
Your state, county, city and block
I give your forehead a knock
Saying ‘Hello! Something died in there!”

So, when you go in there, to the john
Don’t make yourself gone
Until you have poured something in
That fetid **** above your chin;
Something that will **** the bugs
You got from too many drugs,
Too much crap and too little good.
I’m sure if you tried, you could
Free us from this stench.
Take the mouthwash off the bench
And put it into play
For the sake of the team.

No, this isn’t a dream.
I’m really saying it.
No sense downplaying it.
It’s not outrageous at all.
It’s a wake-up call.
John Bartholomew Mar 2019
Fat
Thin
Living with sin
Depends on how well you know me
My past misdemeanors
You could well take me to the cleaners
On discrepancies I've done in the past
I seem so nice and pleasant
With a smile that seems so repellent
Not even a fly would fear my charm
But it could all just be an act so decisive
That it has other means and devices
That keep me at reach from a length of your arm
But I can turn it on when its needed
Talking the bull with the waffle I'm feeding
And have them eating out of my palm
But that only comes when times can be hard
Concocting the odd story like a once well known Bard
But not as well known as the great Billy Shakespeare
For I am an honest man with the odd story that's a lie
We all have that in our depth even under a shirt and a tie
As times can be hard sometimes we all live in fear
See, you cant describe everyone with same artists brush
We can be rude, we can be transparent and some are just lush
If your looking from just the outside then what a great toosh!

Yeah, go on, I'd love you too,

Describe me

JJB
A bad system will beat a good person every time - W. Edwards Deming

I'm a good person, but with many defects. - Enrique Iglesias

I just want people to realize that it doesn't take much to be a good person. Simple things is all it takes. - Brian Ortega
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
LIMBO -
limbo of the libido:
foul dough. 502 bad gateway bypass.


i'm trying to be sexist, but: there are certain gender realities
(i don't know why i invoke the plural) -
***: what's biological... reproductive...
                       the furthering of the species...
for all the crap that anti-cis propaganda ushers in...
well... hardly: how would homosexual be born?
sure, accepted... how would all the other "freaks"
be born? via the **** or the mouth?
                 silly questions... society has accepted the outliers...
but now they're getting "too proud"...
yesterday my mother asked me on a whim...
she goes to these reflexology appointments...
the reflexologist is a vegan and she made this comment
in passing...
   the cows only produce milk when they're pregnant
and when they give birth...
so my mum asks me...
you're an enlightened man... like your father...
like your grandfather...
       is it possible that cows only produce milk when
they are pregnant?
huh?! don't you milk a cow in the morning and in
the evening... and during the summer you can even
milk her during the day?
***?! so how come we have a constant supply
of milk?! would a cow be holy in India if she only
produced milk when she was impregnated?
   that's ******* vegan talk for you: she has meat and
dairy products on her mind... absolute *******
nonsense... women... the cows are being abused now...
i sometimes wish i could work in a slaughterhouse
just for the kicks... or rather...
i remember this one backlog memory...
   there was a slaughterhouse on the outskirts of
the town where i was born... i saw it being towed in
into it on the back of a truck...
       the mooing this haunts me... it sort of knew it was
entering a slaughterhouse...
     that's almost like when a child was once asked
in a survey... where does milk come from?
milk cartons... hey presto! magic milk!
         god... people are urban-dumb...
                                        some don't even know that
those "yellow things" are... rapeseed oil flowers...
true story... a girl and a mum on the bus in front of me...
we were passing the green belt between Romford
and Mark's Gate / Chadwell Heath on the 66 bus...
the girl asked her mum: mum... what are those...
the mum replies... ahem... yellow things...
woman! they're rapeseeds! they're rapeseed flowers!
you make oil from them! cooking oil!
cows only produce milk when they're pregnant...
******* veganism...
    point being... back in the day when stewards at
football matches... security guards at events were all men...
just like yesterday...
chill day... well... because of bunch of football supporters
only sees men segregating the home fans from
the away fans... they don't see a ***** in the armour
of yellow vests... there's no woman ergo:
there's no weak-spot... oh sure sure... such your average
woman has a black belt in ******* judo...
first comes the optics... later... the physical confrontation...
what she going to do? shout at them?
and it's not like women didn't start wars...
oh Helen oh Joan... no no... peaceful creatures...
coming back in the car yesterday there was only
the four of us... all men... we were all sort of exhausted...
we exchanged... 5 sentences between each other...
the rest of the car journey was spent in comfortable
silence... no woman ergo no agitation...
ergo... no need to compete for attention of
attention-seeking ******... it's that ******* simple...
ol' Ernest Hemmingway was right....
each short-story in his collection: Men without Women
is correct...
it was spectacular yesterday: just guys...
shared banter... even the weakling among us...
Mark... sure... we teased him about dating prospects
with this girl we're working with... teased him...
but at the same time: didn't exclude him from the group...
we were literally working together...
there was no friction... no "alpha beta gamma psi blah blah"
of mating hierarchical status...
and we weren't confronted by the fans...
oh... the worst is working with someone like Jeminah...
the workload becomes a joke...
she is attractive: or rather... was...
today at the supermarket i thought...
   well... if most women find most men disgusting...
ugly... even... let me tell you...
the most unappealing man... in the eyes of another
man? CHARACTER... that man has a lived face...
it's a bit different simply passing someone in the street
and it's a bit different when you start interacting
with someone, see their ****** expression change
from the casual: pedestrian neutral...
   but an ugly man i can stand...
                yet... i also watched the desperate men
coupled with... ahem... ******* GARGOYLES...
no no... there's another word for them...
     Medusa was one of them... GORGONS...
   GARGOYLES GORGONS... same ****... different cover...
how did they ever manage to swing that by?
i wouldn't **** that, let alone reproduce with it...
it just looks ugly on the inside more than
it does on the outside... it looks like a busy-body...
i'm not saying i'm a stunner...
                  but i've had enough rejections to know
that: well... standards are going up...
as well as tax and mortgages and the price of: MILK...
Hindu fuel of life...
         ***** in the armour... i never had such a relaxing
shift... because... again: what is she going to do?
shout at about 20 happy-angry football fans rushing
up to the segregation-line between home fans
and away fans? shout at them: BIG MOMMA style?
that's the excuse Jeminah used when she was
placed on a similar playground at Fulham:
would you talk to your mother like that?
would you talk to your sister like that?
well... double that effort and don't talk to me
like that...                                         ha ha.... ah ha ha...
i just stand there... make concrete eye-contact...
fold my arms around my chest... pump up my back...
smile... last time i checked? no trouble...
but it's ****... absolute ******* working with women...
they disrupt the whole dynamic of a team...
a team of men... why?
if she's attractive enough she'll get asked out by
customers... asked for her number...
she'll start twitching left left left swipe swipe her Tinder
options... it's like working with
an epileptic hamster...
            and it's true what they say...
women are never single... there's always a side "project"...
i don't know... why i like cycling down Mawney Road...
i loved it prior to meeting her...
there are trees either side of the street...
and it's mostly downhill... unless in reverse...
in gear 6 to make more effort therefore uphill...
oh ****... that's her... i saw the dog prior to seeing
her dark ginger-auburn hair...
then again: i think i saw her ginger-auburn hair first...
and...
       she was walking... with the most...
unremarkable man... jeans and a black fleece...
****** dark sort of brown hair: oh no... not raven Turkic...
some ****** brown variation...
but jeans and a black fleece...
                  i'm guessing trainers on his feet...
her ex? her ex-boxing frenzy where she's the cougar
and he's the ****-pants late-stage hard-on
teenager? that sort of dynamic? so... not...
her somewhat contemporary?
     and, mind you: i'm getting these regular anonymous
voicemails... unknown number:
ergo? i don't listen to them...
         at strange times... i saw her walking her dog
and her most unremarkable looking man
side by side at 4pm... i get a voicemail at 4:29pm...
could it be her? i want to doubt it...
i'm not going to listen to it...
    i found a little bit of happiness with a Turkish *******...
i'll settle for that...
like my grandfather used to say:
keep your heart tiny, tiny tiny tiny...
then you'll have people in your grasp...
     i sort of played the game wrong... i wanted to go out
with her... too many girls... involved...
too many counter-narratives... but when the friendship
of her son with the other girl's son was invoked
as if it might be broken: i broke my silence...
and her presto... i get ghosted...
but we live locally... so what is she going to do?
demand i don't cycle down Mawney Road?
she doesn't even live on Mawney Road...
she likes in a cul de sac just off Mawney Road...
she just walks her dog down this street...
perfect timing? ****'s sake...
      yeah: the idea of seeing her walking her dog
and her former ex-boxer... or some new guy...
(boxer in the sense: his greatest opponent was her)...
some Tinder flick...
         it's not like i want to help people like her...
i'd love to be around them to rein them in...
but... obviously... the currency of the current
freedoms... is... unshakeable...
   such an unremarkable looking man...
what a ****** dress sense... so much sloth induced
attire... the **** i wear at home could be better
translated to overcome what he was wearing
in public... then i figured... i smell it...
                                                           ­      it's fear...
it's... a sense of inadequacy... isn't it?
prostitutes don't smell of that... oddly enough...
          and they don't smell it on me...
i'm just a lover-boy... eyes filled with intent: blah blah...
******* with the taboo... i leave the taboos
for strip-clubs... all see but no touch...
yeah... tell me that when i was in one in Athens...
no touch *******... i was so excited rubbing
and hugging at least three: running out of money
that a bouncer escorted me to the nearest cash-machine
while i ****** my trousers and sneaked out...
walking... i was drunk... that's how i navigated
Athens then... i had a honing implant in
my 'ed... 5 miles? however long it was...
       you're going to be spending money on SOMETHING...
anyways... it's not a ******* shortcut...
but at least you'll be getting what you're after
upfront... and it's not like the women are
unwilling... i once had a date with this South African
private school teacher... she tried to cook...
she really protested when i wanted to be involved in
the cooking: can't we? cook, together?
we watched a movie... then went to bed...
oh **** me... not another of these types...
types? ******* cocoon *** types...
ashamed of her body... it's not enough to do it
with the lights off: rather than dimmed...
but... under the bed-sheets...
no again... how she managed to give me a hard-on
i will never know... she must have spiked my drink...
but... the *** under the bedsheets the lights out
is one thing... her... not being exactly creamy-pie?
creamy-pie?! she wasn't wet... she was aroused
but she also wasn't aroused...
she had a thick fat dry load of ******!
how do you describe *** that's quasi-**** but can't
be ****, therefore it's quasi- when a woman's
****** is not wet? when you feel like every stroke
is you: peeling an onion... or getting circumcised?!
i might as well have found a squid's worth of mouth
to explore the deity of *******...
no... no thank you... i don't do inexperienced *****...
it wasn't ****... but...
  if you stretch it... she's still ******* you:
with a dryness of Sahara... you feel you're not plucking
oysters with your tongue...
or poking them with your index...
instead... you're... rubbing sandpaper on the index...
that's not ****? beats me...
what's *** then, "in general"?
   we're calling performing ****: 1st base?!

such a clueless... average looking man...
   sure... she got scared... ha ha:
of the homemade wine and the banana loaf
and the fact that i'm into collecting vinyl...
and that i dress to impress...
     shucks... that sort of hurts...
no wonder i had to turn that "hurt" into
a visit to a brothel... well... at least some women are
still out there: appreciative of my masculinity...
girl-boy girl-girl games can stay
the ******* my radar for as long as possible...
perhaps they will: when i don't hope
to meet her in the geriatric centre for things
all the manner of STALE...
    
oh **** her... her swig at quality on the side while
she goes for something easier, manageable...
the type where she's on top...
ha ha... **** her...
but i'm still going to cycle down that street...
the odd chance i catch her walking her dog...
will these ******* voicemails end?! please!
i'm not going to listen to them!
i'm more of a reader: not a listener...
because i'm guessing, it probably sounds like...
'stop stalking me!'... you what?

we're practically neighbours...
what am i going to do? ******* to the moon?!
you're the one using Tinder to match up
with guys from CALI-FOR-NIA...
******* to California then...
                     i'm not going: anywhere...
this earth gave birth to my psyche from the age
of 8... i was elsewhere prior...
please excuse me...
                                    silly little *****;

i can't stop... such an unremarkable looking man...
sort of... "man"... but obviously she had the upper-hand...
oh i'm guessing that his desperation just:
******* glowed and blinded her with
the advent of issuing power dynamism...
          
     see... fear... is usually coupled with a precursor...
excitement... there's this initial excitement...
but then... a backlog of sensation kicks in...
the 'oh ****' stage... hence the sabotage...
   of a possible relationship...
             but it's so much different with prostitutes...
since... it's Russian roulette gambling...
it's not: betting on horses...
it's better with the weight of your heart and soul...
that's why i like it... too many "fiddly" bits of
conversational ******* before the actual
******* or rather the... what's it called?
the preliminary? whatever it's called...

                        **** it... if Zeus can't wait... to implode
into existence in the realms of men
via a ****** birth... but has to: metaphor himself
into ******* a beauty via (as) a swan...
i'll be at the brothel; i don't have the time,
but more importantly... i'm not always in the mood...
so... woman: more like: LEASH...
patience...
                
        let her walk her dog and her unremarkable looking
man... i bet she can teach the both of them
some good sic 'em lessons;
            i just want to see one of her dogs bark...
TOOSH... obviously the other dog will get a treat and a patting...
because... what? i can't cycle on this street?
ah ha ha... pretty petty whittle moi.
Vaampyrae Mar 2021
snugglewumpus
snookie cookie
munch munch
snarky warky
snek snacc
banana toosh
kelpy brain
lovable dork
marshmallow ****
but most of all:
my favourite poet
why am i in such a lovey mood

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