So little old me won first prize
at an intercollegiate Literary Competition
it was quite a big deal
and I was the bee's knee for quite a while
shortly after there's me at a Girls College
attending a Fun and Social Evening
a live Band was dishing the tunes
***** teenagers were raging with hormones
I was sorted
my sweetheart's sister was at the school
my sweetheart could not attend
but I was to be chaperoned so that's that
anyway halfway into the evening
I'm outside the hall cooling down
up came this rather fetching girl
my chaperon was throwing shapes to James Brown
whose Papa has got a brand new bag ( whatever for) I wonder
anyways the fetching girl sidled up
who are you, she ventured
well if you must know, do you know who won the Literary 1st prize, I asked
of course I do, she replied instantly
and if you must know he happens to be my boyfriend, she added
before I could close my wide opened mouth
she told me my name
I gulped
yes, she smiled
we've been dating for quite some time
actually we were at the Cinema last Saturday
oh he's such a darling and so clever and cute too
do you know him she continued as she pointed to the College badge on my blazer
he's from your College
Oh yes, I know him very well, I replied, while wondering
what is this!
what's your name, she continued, I'm seeing him tomorrow, I'll tell him I met you, and ask if he knows you
So have you done the did with him I asked, now feeling mischievous
This ***** flashed me a knowing look, loads of time but don't tell anyone, she replied huskily
What! screams I
ssshhush, loudly whispered her
Then it happened
footsteps clattered hurriedly out of the hall
my chaperon had had enough of James brown and his Papa's bag
and remembered her duty
she yelled my name and asked what I was doing
I will never forget the look on Miss *****, my imaginary 'girlfriend's' face
have you ever seen surprise horror and floor-open-up-and-swallow
me-up-please, all on a face before, I did that evening.
Miss ***** flashed a last look at my smiling face and beat a hasty retreat
as chaperon dragged me back in, in a firm wristlock.

This story came to mind because later in adult life, I was to discover I have loads of clones doing or having done things I know
nothing about. I will not be surprised if one of them is an ageing
broken hearted silver fox in love with a black yellow sunflower who is now withered yet a battalion of flying monkeys have devoted their lives to preventing this clone and the orange or pink or yellow or grey or black or muslim or whatever colour sunflower,
who they say is now withered, ever meeting. Its a strange world!

chip away
with your blunt axe
and even blunter minds

Its the recognized profession for the losers
word has it there are over five million members
no qualifications required cause they are already tossers
just bring your sick minds and all the filth of your inner chambers

Its the recognized profession for the putrid cowards
talentless sour inadequates who are remarkably unworthy
those sad nobodies with inward visions and thought backwards
who hide in big shame and anonymity deriding betters praiseworthy

Its the recognized profession for the psychos
pathetic narcissists resenting able qualities and successes
vitiated miscreants who feeds their neurosis's by making pathos
for the pains of wounded dark souls needs to share its fired miseries

Its recognized profession for the frustrated never-do-wells
beaten senselessly by envy and jealousy they fume in outrages
blunt minds plunge into vociferous taunts and torments of hells bells
raining bile's, ranting, lying, venting and recording like the city savages they are
the pitiful cripples hidden in caves without a Messiah to help them
but keyboards and numerous anonymous aliases

Your demonstrations
are indications of my exaltation's
your asinine molestation's
are confirmations of my valuation
your cowardly confrontations
is a sure signs of your deep frustrations
that even in numbers you are still in damnation
puerile and insignificant in dire mindless infestations
serfs and drones struggling stakes-less in foolish protestations
the opaques and transparents burning in hate and sad destitution

As if I give a flying *******
or can be donkeyed by assorted mixed nuts
a disrepute of unqualified labourers working desconstruction
going nowhere slowly in the fools' errand championship of losers
since when do the blinds fly fighter jets and butchers are Surgeons
As if I give a rusty **** dime

White thieves, Extortionists and Gangsters
declare me a grass for standing up to them
they said they were going to ruin and destroy me
I refused to be intimidated
Do your worst I replied I've done nothing wrong
Now I'm jobless and a pariah
isolated, harassed and hounded
made untouchable like a *****
they tell me gleefully
A criminal grass will be killed
A non criminal Grass will be made to **** himself
They said they'll make my life hell
We will wreck your mind with terrors and nightmares
make you a void of nothing but emotional pain and sorrow
each and every hour of each and every day
No help or support, no progress no joy
Just absolute miseries till you top yourself
We rule this manor they said, we have connections
No one will dare come to your aid or rescue
We are the gods and goddesses in this Nation
If anyone help you they become like you
we can find secrets to make offers they daren't refuse
We know the pedos, the secret thieves and the adulterers
We know the sins they all hide from their neighbours
from the Preachers to the Politicians to the man on the Square
And if by chance we can't find any dirt, we'll make it up
and cake you in mud like a Michelangelo's David
and make it stick, like we do with you, innocent stainless man
Your days are numbers, just go top yourself
In dire straits, alone and without support anywhere
No I say, I am not frighten of you ad stand in truth
I know and have someone more powerful than you all
He is called GOD.....come do your worst......

Why is it that all things mass produced
are cheap. ******, inferior, staple and uninteresting
shoddy mass produced fake nonsense in copious amounts
only fit for those low-skilled who produced them in the first place
somebody should teach them about quality so they stop being so banal

Wasted words from wasted places
idle red visions from minds in idle trances
empty pictures strewn-ed on blank canvasses
opaque musings of malicious judgement in unknown cases
balanced strength offers no testimony other than its true edifices
that which in honor vaporizes the ***** minds laden-ed in diseases

A wonderful fable the hussies told
laying velvets over their heinous felonies
in gainsay somersault and agile twists
the innocents become the villains
and The Wigan Piers Boys rode into town
the **** came riding in too
pulling alongside the blinded and the dumb
it were the age of treasons and discontent

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,
it was the death of hope and progress,
it was the seasons of lies and slander

It is the time of the mocking birds vengeance
the vendetta of rogues, knave, charlatan and the twofaced
and the vixens and the serpents whispered eulogies
meant for their fathers, their men their brothers and their sons
but it was never meant for the blameless man now in their gallows
they danced and smiled at the kangaroo court and cast their verdict
The Wigan Piers Boys and cahoots then consulted the unions
and the return to Wigan Pier with no parole and hard labour
It is the age of Revolution when faultless innocent man is hanged


Lets learn a little

https://youtu.be/l5baKXjdSjg

The woman from the All seeing Eyes
did not drive a hundred miles
rather in throbbing obsessions
Freudian slip and all that jazz
she just parked up close and personal
for in the facade of gentility book thumping
lies a ***** with ***** thoughts and needs
a hot body craving defilement and abandon
fantasies of a ******* snake in juicy apex
bored of same ole same ole in starched drill

In moistured thrill she did once devised a plan
I've got a key and the Teacher is away
come meet me here and lets make fantasies
To get a full flowing fill and memories to twerk
off course its all for research I'll never do such
but l'agent never did took the bait as expected
no ***** mind or inappropriate ways in heart
twice calls were made for presence here
come to my swaying hips in exotic hues
twice No for alas he is not  that sort of man

The woman from the  All seeing Eyes
in wounded pride and bruised ego
in cult warfare drives close and personal
lurid thoughts save for solo performances
in dark with black oh for a right regal stuffing
for its well known the Praises hides a molten pit
behind closed doors hides a multitude of sins
the obsession rages and flutters and leaks
but of course to all its nothing of the sort
she's just playing chess and reading the good books

They wear masks on white painted faces
hypocrisy and superficiality is colorless and opaque
while actions screams out a million tales
do not talk of the fishers of men in two-faced smiles
for when it came to casting stones some wanted wood
when in truth they could state, enough, show mercy here
alas the world is black and white and falsehood must
in reasons lies the unreasonings as in bodies lies urges
look closely and see the fleet of hands that wants the Ace
lady from the All seeing Eyes can drive close and undercover
carrying unknown stimuli in service of darkness within

valleys will always feel better with a big oak at base
methinks all these maidens doth protest too much
go read your books and white wash the dutiful spouse
keep your Sundays holy and hide yours sins all week days
the Leader says love your neighbour as you love yourself
loading parked messages in errands of disturbance denounces
for pure, loving giving hearts will not find errors in innocence
selective prayers selective deeds, Satyr does not rule in half measure
an innocent man was crucified and in your hands lay blood
yet in pretentious zeal you sing Hallelujah to the Son
your deeds betray you, you have soiled the Living Truth

So it came to pass at last and sad to know a Timber has fallen
It stood in strength tall and strong for over seven decades
Resplendently toned it spread an uncompromising foliage
Masterly in domain magical in reach attaining untold grades
Humble in origins yet grew with endeavour and knowledge
Distinguishably it cut sway in tundra and in lush green glades

Son of sons of the Land held roots countenancing no crawling
It reached for the stars and danced reasons with every shades
Ran with the sun and sat with owls and vipers for tutelage
Sweeping the very highs and the lows in communal trades
In the jungle of sharks and vipers it be known who's in Charge
A Timber has fallen while the rains falls and blue clouds fades

There's now a mighty hole in the earth and rivers are swollen
Leaves scatter and branches beckon hundreds of onward bridges
Leaving best Princess, flowers and saplings for love and largesse
A notable trunk laid supine free to roam without worldly cages
Odes will enter dancing in guises and tears flow without finesse
A Timber has fallen and dirges will ring out for a man of all ages

Yemessia bows and says Adieu My Senior, we will meet again.....


[email protected].

Go teach your papas to **** eggs
tell your mamas where babies come from
for if they had told you how the winds blows
you won't sing tuneless songs or copy ostriches
for that big bird hides by burying its head in sands

Tell a looker one and one is twenty-four
and it is so because you know its just so possible
garb a barb and spit in the wind you defer gravity
folklore and lies banter in the muds of urban myths
the spirit-leveler of the lost orphans in parental loses

Been there and seen the lessons taught
while the moves to commotions via in motion aghast
save your references for that cheetar's been and gone
and basement dormitory rearing traumatizes puppies
the incessant barking reflects the unwell unhappy pups

Papas never ****** eggs as granny did
mamas had babies before they knew what canal was
now the dogs run ravage seeking handlers and grub
fleas infected and cosy mange in city suits and genes
I hear poor dogs  bawling, barking and shrieking in angst
But I do not lay with dogs,

Equation simple
do what the mob says
or be classed as a traitor
what choice has a conflicted
but to hope in hammer and sickle
even when every pores screams No No
longing and guilt is masked by esprit de corps
when the mind is blinded fallen tears are unseen
the cage with no bars cradle heartaches with gainsays
sadness is hidden in the tricolour before the masters calls
in wrong is the right to belong to the wrong pretending right
a sacrifice forced in homage to foolishness and small blind mice
hail heart pangs despair an pain and farewell to the dawn of promise

Without me
the simpletons pines
and the vapidity overwhelms them
and in tantrums they become deluded poets
writing about life as only primed dullards can
semi-illiteracy and mediocrity are ******* who breed
crazed *******
and
crazed ******* cannot live without my oxygen and *******

Just know us
as the common-o-garden ones
Joe Blogs or plain Jane or even John Doe
and if you like our generic tag is the great Unwashed
of which we are proud as we save the planet by not wasting water

we don't have much
but why worry when we can steal
neither do we go for higher education
that's too much hard work when life is so short
so we put fun first and we drink smoke and make babies

we don't matter much, ahh....
so we crave attention all the time
we demand validation and fight bully and troll to feel alive
lashing out and puffing and huffing all to feel noticed and relevant
its all we can do to mask our feelings of worthlessness and untalented

we are envious haters
cause we have no self esteem or confidence
we hate all those who are assured, confident and successful
should we not when we are riddled with doubts and negativity
causing mayhem being vile and obnoxious hides our pain and anguish