O how I recall with joy a visit to Jackson, proud capital of Mississippi,
The land of the fearless fatties, the glorious land of the uber-obese,
A paradise enjoying amazingly high blood pressure and diabetes rates,
Thanks to the greed and gluttony of its 'proud-to-be-portly' inhabitants.

How delightful to stroll along its leafy boulevards, admiring the advertising
For junk food shops: "Super-Size Your Deep Crust Giant Pizza for only $1!"
"Real Men love our Emperor Size Cheeseburgers, King Size is for Kids!"
And "Come Try Our All Day Giant Breakfast with Triple French Fries!"

How enchanting to see furniture stores offering discounted extra big sofas,
Builders and carpenters with their cut-price floor-strengthening deals,
Tailors' shops with their displays of buffet pants and elasticated jeans,
Realtors promoting houses with double porches and wide internal doors.

And, O the trailer parks, those truly splendid residential areas,
With their giant size immoveable vehicles with spacious entry portals
To allow the immaculately dressed residents to carry in an armful
Of multi-packs of chocolate iced crème flavour filling Krispy Kremes.

But most wondrous of all, the myriad rival Pentacostal Chapels
With their guaranteed reinforced concrete padded sofa-pews
And their portrayals of plump Jesuses to make the fatties feel at home.
And all those "funeral parlors" with their gaping super-wide caskets.

How I loved the blinking stares of the sleep-deprived bible students
As they staggered out of an architectural wonder of a chapel,
Bleary-eyed after an all-night bible study session, and all eager
For a healthy breakfast of a dozen flash-fried sugar encrusted "donuts".

I was there in this glorious world centre of ever-escalating obesity
With my latest gorgeous lady love (at only 140 pounds and five foot two,
possibly the slimmest woman in the entire Jackson Metropolitan Area)
And we decided to try some good ol' Mississippi fine dining as a treat.

Holey Moley! What a feasts on offer: pan-fried catfish, deep-fried catfish,
Steaks the size of an encyclopaedia and all accompanied by unlimited fries!
Sweet potato and pecan pie with butter, sugar, eggs and extra cream,
And Mississippi Mud Pie with its chocolate crust and sticky chocolate filling!

(The chef de cuisine in our upscale diner told us that Southern cooks
had created this wondrous dessert because its sophicated ingredients
were available cheaply and the recipe required only minimal culinary skill,
and what's more it came with a treble serving of supermarket ice cream!)

We declined the bottomless cup of watery coffee with compulsory sugar
And enquired if we might have a bottle of his finest wine. Quel faux-pas!
The dear fatso was mortified and told us his was a Christian establishment
And strong drink was frowned upon. Did we think he was a degenerate?

That night we lay bloated like beached whales in our tasteful motel room
(its bed reinforced with ferro-concrete to deal with the horrid possibility
that any gargantuan visitors might wish to copulate vigorously);
Oh how we burped and farted, longing for a dose of bicarbonate of soda.

All good things come to an end so, after a nessy session on the toilet
(we filled it thrice), we bade farewell to the desk clerk and sloped off.
"Be sure y'all come back real soon," he declared, patting his fat gut,
"Cuz you both sure do look two real skinny Limeys, ya hear me?."

As we drove out of this elegant city that steamy Southern summer morn
In our rented 4X4 super-strong chassis Land Rover, how we smiled
At the scene outside Walmart where the special offer of the day
Was five pounds of free candies with every single assault rifle sold.

But alas! And alack! Tragedy was not so very far away that day:
Some corpulent teenagers toppled off the sidewalk under my auto's wheels
In their indecent haste to take advantage of the latest McDonald's bargain:
A quart of complimentary Dr Pepper's with a whole oven-fried McTurkey.

Oy! What a horrid mess my fender made of their pudgy, mottled flesh
And how wise we were to speed off before the cops arrived
At least, we avoided being beaten us to a pulp for being leftist libtards
Come to laugh at the dear redneck ways south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

I woke up *****
And went to the shop,
I got corn, peas, chopped gherkins,
All canned,
I raided the reduced section like mad,
Got some cheese
And some ham
That I won't allow to go bad,
cause I'll make a ton of salad
Out of this myriad,
For breakfast, munch and evening feast,
It'll last a fortnight at the very least,
I can top it up with this
Foul smelling liquor I brought from the east,
Among the other mementos in my cellarette,
I could have a party in my ******
In my kitchenette,
My flat is so hot I could sign post it
'sauna to let',
But the swingers here don't speak a word of
English,
One time they took their ya-yas out
And called ME a delinquent,
As if I've got a funny kind of pigment
They can't live with,
I've tried to put my finger on it
But I don't want it to get stinky,
I think they simply haven't got an inkling
As to what and why they're thinking,
But never mind those pinkies,
Let us go back to my shopping
Just as it was getting *****:
Before my skimpy trolley glided to the checkout,
I got a ticket for my pfand,
Which measured fairly to my pleasure
Of having my alcoholism,
Which is confess is merely leisured,
Redeemed into a form of solid ******* treasure.
Throughout the years my drinking
Let me celebrate the fear
Of lack of meaning,
It made friends out of strangers,
Lovers out of friends,
Ex lovers out of lovers,
Clowns out of boring people,
It made a clown out of me too,
My drinking took my money
And gave me a suspicious act
To cling to,
It made me a legless athlete
In a race against the future,
It excited me with waterfalls of chaos
Bursting through cracked normality,
It pretended to bring Arcadia
Into the ruling technology,
It invaded Scandinavia  
With lawless Somalia,
It put peaks and crannies
Into the dull landscape of
Nord Rhein Westphalia,
I have a whole worthless encyclopaedia
Of what my drinking did to me,
Page after page of random numbers
Makes for a baffling read,
I don't know if I should frame it,
Burn it,
Or get some ****,
My drinking always gave me an excuse to smoke,
I puffed my hours into nothingness,
Laughter & loneliness,
A condition of no ambition
Made life itself seem like a superstition,
But I don't want the repetition anymore,
Boredom is but a bed sheet of a sore old *****,
A stifling breath of a handicapped mind;
But
Being now so temporarily poor
I find it easy to smile
As the cashier counts my pennies
Making the citizens in line
In their Jack Wolfskins and denims
Very uneasy,
Men & women of the Rhein get seriously queasy
When they see a foreigner like me
Simply taking it easy,
You know I had to break my piggybank just to get here,
I crossed a red light when it was all clear,
I have no bike lights - I just disappear,
Who knows what is it that I do inside the night?..
Could be something good,
Might be something bright..
Anyway,
I got my receipt,
Said my 'schön Tag' alright,
I should have said 'schön Abend'
But I guess I'm not polite,
Then I rode in the street,
My bags dangling left & right,
Balancing my act
Under the waning Eurodollar moon,
Some react badly
when they're given **** to spoon,
But my lack of money
In fact makes me feel immune
To superficial cravings like
iPhones, clothes, perfume,
shavings, shoes, tattoos;
I'd rather spend a fortnight
In the arms of David Hume,
Than stopping by at Rügen
On my way to Cameroon,
On a beastly ocean liner,
With pommes and Pauliner
Supplied ad infinitum!
I don't know my own mind,
I's time to take a trip down the ol' cerebrum,
While tickets are at a minimum
And the season is at a premium,
I'll tame my tantrums without ******,
I'll let my maelstroms guide me to a podium
Of perfect equilibrium,
I'll get a glimpse of wisdom
By watching my own delirium,
I'm serious about this.
I don't reminisce about the years
I dismissed by watching television series,
Dumbing down with the Big Bang Theory.
I feel so blessed to be weary
And out of breath
From the long hand of entertainment
That wants to tickle everyone to death,
It's an epidemic worse than crystal ****,
But it's not hard to shake the fever.
Only a ****** was born to be a ******,
Man was cursed to be a dubious believer.
So kiss my feet
Or chop me with a cleaver,
Nothing will stop me from becoming an achiever,
Nothing but the habit pattern of my own demeanour.

Mike Bee,
Wandering Free.
My *****’s Pub Sunday Luncheon mate,
With always plenty on his plate.

Then at The Crow’s there’s John and Keith,
Using Sam Smith’s to wash their teeth.
What they don’t know, isn’t worth knowing,
Lots of banter to keep me going.

They call Brian there, “Encyclopaedia”,
With lots of facts, he will feed ya.
He’s so bright cos he’s from Leeds,
And knows his I before E except after Cs.

Paul Butters

Kelly Brook
Mistook
A book
For a hook.

Went fishing with
Alanis Morissette
And Anneka Rice.

Caught a complete set
Of Encyclopaedia Britannicas.
Popped it in the keep-net
And mused,

This really is a landmark
Of informational literature
But is rather wet
So not easily used.

I think I'll stick
To the Internet.

I just realized
how I never quite thanked you
For the little things that you did
the little things that left such a big impact
on the girl that I've grown to be

I was never shown princesses' movies
with a fairy-tale ending
but was read quotes of your favorite author
some times they would go above my head
so you would tell me what they really meant
I remember the argument that we had on
"it's better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven"
I ran to mum and asked
"do you agree with papa? Is what he saying right?"
you smiled and said, I could decide for myself
I don't remember what i decided
but I've witnessed too much of hell since that day
So now if i was asked to serve on heaven,
I'll be only glad.
You made sure that i was provided
with
the buoyancy I needed to fly
yet had the knowledge enough to
be able to walk on Earth too.
You told me I'm going to make mistakes
but it should never come in my way of learning
not every one is going to like me
and i should not care if they did
but remain true to myself
and all that i stand for.
I must not be scared, to be laughed at
for my mistakes
to err is only human, after all.
It was from you that I learnt
Words, if used correctly, can help one get through
almost any/every thing
But one should make sure
that they follow what they preach
You told me
there's a book on every feeling that I'll ever go through
When in doubt i must seek my friends
my shelf
I'm not alone in this fight
and yet you wonder
why I'm so interested in Literature

Dear Dad,
thank you for never imposing your thoughts on me,
letting me find my answers,
giving me the space I needed to grow and explore
to know what i believed in, the values I'd stand by
My friend once called you the living encyclopaedia
thank you for that too =D
For your opinions on every random topic I started.
Thank you for never letting me win
without putting a fight
I really found it sweet
Father and daughter
against each other
and neither one backing off
after all, they both shared a part of the same gene
You never sugar-coated anything
but sometimes when i would walk in
you would hurriedly change the news channel
wanted to let me enjoy as much of carefree days i could, did not you?
Did not want to expose the dark side of the world to me yet?

I bet you don't know
that when I'm confused about what to do
I take a look back and ask myself
what would papa's little daughter would do?
it has helped me more than once
it's hard to admit
your little daughter had this life figured out
more than I do now
You told me I should not fight too hard to blend in
A little madness is needed
to achieve something extra-ordinary
I WISH YOU HAD NOT
because
Now that when I look around,
I realize i barely fit
Papa,
they laugh at how I've never seen many disney movie
or, how I prefer novel more than movies
They smirk upon my dressing sense
and hair ******* in a messy knot.
Every now and then i would get into fight with those stereotype
plastic face with each inch covered in make-up
being mean and thinking they're super-cool
OH,
*I CAN NOT WAIT TILL I GET HOME TO MUM AND YOU

In this house
sticky thin floorboards
slinking from wall to wall.
Everything dripping down,
pictures taped,
a story told through
ticket stubs
and pushpins.

The amount of stuff
is astounding,
every piece exact,
writing an encyclopaedia.
Teal doors chipping,
holes at hand-height
with paw prints
adorning every corner.

Where once I stood still
You made me dance like a vivacious ballerina
Where once I was on a verge of extinction
You made me replicate myself
Where once I was about to jump off the cliff
You made me fly like a carefree swallow
Where once I had lost my voice
You made my vocal chords work harder than ever
Where once I turned grey
You made me more colourful than VIBGYOR
Where once I became oblivious to all
You made me  a walking talking encyclopaedia
Where once I became deaf
You made Mozart immortal for my ears
Where once I refused to smile
You made me chuckle endlessly
Where once everything had turned dark
You made my life brighter than sunshine
Where once sadness refused to leave me
You made me forget what it even was
Where once the aura of shallowness surrounded me
You made me realise I'd reached the zenith
Where once I merely existed
You made me feel live ......... to the infinity

Every time I
catch a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window I
have to check.

Legs. Still there, apparently.
Still thin even though I
ate lunch today.

Every time I
sit down on the toilet to *** I
have to check.

Tailbone. Still protrudes a little, apparently.
Still hasn’t disappeared, isn’t
buried under fat even though I
put milk in my coffee this morning.

Softly, gently
My hands explore my back, tracing up
along my spine because I
have to check.

I wonder if I look a bit like
a dinosaur illustration from a child’s encyclopaedia:
you know, the one with the triangular bump-y things
running along its back?
Stegosaurus! That’s the one!
(I had to Google it.)

I have to check.

It's a bit like slamming on the brakes when all you have is what life takes and the winding down begins.  

These are the stakes and the fixed odds chance so you dance off down the road to dreams that fall at the final jump and you pump yourself back up and get back down to it.  

Easier to slit your throat or cut your wrists than scroll down all the losers, winners that you missed, the list is long, your time is short, getting caught out, being bought and sold out to the highest bidder who only ever wants to get rid of and you who should have known the breakdown was on the way say nothing when you could have rattled off some encyclopaedia. Spilled the beans on social media but you were always greedier than Bunter and now the hunter is the hunted, slammed the brakes on, shunted from behind to find that life is and can be that unkind.  

Its a never mind and I don't care, never wanted to be here and never ever there but it stares me in the face when I look at these things, place your bets and let's get real we've set the wheels in motion now they'll spin we'll win or lose and then somehow we'll come into our own, become the happiness in the happy home or slam the brakes on when this life's gone and that takes no time at all.

The "world of ideas in Europe
called the" new philosophy
"is also known as the age
of knowledge, known in the eighteenth
century as the knowledge or knowledge
of philosophy, thus controlled
by a spiritual and philosophical
movement public and literary
influence in Europe, and the
consequences of the French
Revolution are so widespread: Lucy, 16,
French historian, and 1789,
first French Revolution. . .      World writers
began in the 1620s and began
a revolutionary science at a time
when his "philosophers "were divided
into French philosophers at meetings
of scientific academies,
Freemasons, literary events, cafes,
and published books and pamphlets;
the center of knowledge,
the monarchy and power
of the church as well as
the revolutionary revolutions
of the eighteenth and nineteenth
n century Various movements
of the 19th century, including
freedom and modernity, put their
knowledge into practice bout
the cause of ideas as the ultimate
source of power, law and liberty,
progress, tolerance, fraternity,
constitutional administration,
church and state.                                                           ­     France, the danger
of the philosophy
of central education
mehākelenyewochu
which is perfect against
Nigušewinetini with the
Roman Catholic Church
and the concrete.                                      Knowledge of the scientific method
                                                                ­                                      and influence
                                                                ­                              of Mek'enesheneti
                                                                ­                   and the growing problem
                                                                ­                      of religious affiliation -
"Sherere Aude" -                                         need to know the idea of ​​the idea.
"Nicholas Concordat is the most famous work
of the human mind in the history of 1795.
When this book appears,
it is generally assumed
that the growth rate is cut off."
Thesis philosophers included Biker,
Dora, Cott, and Spinoza influence
of the philosophers of Revelation
President Joseph II                                            and many Presidents of Spain,
Piscesa Federico II,
Thomas Jefferson followed
Roman ideas attentively and
was conquered in 177 6 It is right,
one The boy, James Madison,
came to power in 1787 when
he left the United States Constitution 5.
The encyclopedia Encyclopaedia
published in 1751 and 1772 thirty-five
volumes and in ke'alekkenite until 1759.
Compiled 1733. 1744                                        and Social Convention 1762 ·
                                                    Theological Theology by Adam Smith 1759
and Documentary Resources 1776;                        The Spirit of Montesquieu
1748. The spiritual development
after the revolutionary revolution
was called romanticism.                             The philosophy of René Descartes
is based on the philosophy
of Tori. His attempt to create a deep
understanding of the theory of doubt
and persecution has no bearing
on his philosophy and his pressures.
John Cow's vision of the arguments
of 1690 and David Hoo                                                         was strengthened.
His diplomatic math is the main
affirmation of the Charter
of 1670 and 1677. These two
phases follow the philosophical
lines. First, they try to draw
conclusions from different
varieties of dogs, logos and
Christian areas.  
Second,                                                 ­                                           philosophy,
democracy, freedom,                                                         ­                   freedom
of expression and suppression
of the religious power of Populus.
                                                                ­                                              The diet

Break me and make bread.

In your head,
I'm forever alive.

You can take your road to Calgary and it won't bother me
if you take me.

Here are true lives in the lines.

We read because we need them,
even in our solitude, we choose them and after all, they give meaning to the many men who come to pray before them.

On the Richter scale, we measure five, not quite a fail but not an achievement of which we could boast.

Break me and I'll play host to the demons that ride through the night when you're at your most vulnerable.

Take me and recreate me in the image of your man, but we fake it where we can.

Because,
and that has to be the answer sworn,
the baby born
the cradle cap
the winged bat
All these to choose
rejoice and win
or reject and lose.

Sermons on the Mount in many fonts available from any encyclopaedia,
online any time
Line
Break.

Two words

So far apart

Yet so close

You know them well

Hate and love

Deep and black were
pains, making an arch to give you
presence of roses.

Portraying the slavery of
love. No need of heart's moon.
A thorn whisks away the wish.

I warn you to bury
the knife along with the burial of
my poems. I have never seen the blood.

Words can make or break someone
Don’t contribute to other people’s ordeal

They may forgive what you said or did
But never forget how you made them feel
As physical bruises are easier to deal
Emotional scars take forever to heal.

Mindfully articulate the words you say
Avoid your statements going astray

Don’t let your mood dictate your words
You’ll regret later if said absurd

While commenting Be precise and kind
Keep other person’s feelings in mind
Keep sensitivity & compassion twined
Better to talk once concept refined

Words are encyclopaedia of thought
Be mindful of the purpose sought
While communicating, keep a subtle balance
Speak if words are better than silence.

Weeds of words in garden
Makes encyclopaedia
With thousands of trees

Am I plastered?
Drunk or just hanging?
Taking a dunk or just sagging?
I am given to aphorisms
Morals that build us for a reason
Trying to keep us out of mental prisons
Words have me in a haze and I cannot erase these thoughts  that keep running in an entrancing maze.

Metamorphosis. There are matters that enforce this energy which is engorged within a metaphysical force. I use my fingers to pick up a pen so to expel a thought that lingers in my pineal gland.

Goodness. It is grace amazing that is in this place or just a god or the God who shows off his face. We are presented with a gift perennial that is wrapped with mystery. In mists the fists of fate take a swing and if we believe in the unseen we can trust grit and transcend beyond wit. Train our senses to be lit so they can send us beyond -ism's to the essence of goodness.

Locomotion. In my local state I give up my locale to some divine logic gate. I dial in to wire my mental coiling to follow a calling to inspire. Ever the wiser I should soar to the mystic spheres. But ground there is insulation and my calculation computes a technical movement in my skeletal. I am moving locating my next step, relaying locomotives which are concentric energy.

Soigné. A fine dame I dare meet on a fine day. So Ignorant of her beauty I parlay my chances with a few words of jest and curved zest to interact with her invitational tract. If I have a chance in fact I will make a pact to be with her throughout the days and forget about lustful tact. I resurge and her being is muse and to me it is a purge. I aim to converse with her for days and days so we can find confluence as we psychically converge. And I'll tell her that she is pulchritudinous and I am pale true to nought, waiting for my crafting.

Words or chords to find concordance. Some say say swords to slice and pierce and dictate worlds. I say they are mellifluous like a melody that sends a melancholy sadist out of his maladies. Magnanimously magnificent in moments of poetic artistry and meandering prose fixating methodically. From the mammary of the culinary belly we squeeze out these laid letters formed to mean but not to be mean to the means of our diction or magnify our addiction. Perhaps to quantify our intellect beyond the internet, we archive them in dictionaries and illustrate them in some encyclopaedia. Perhaps grunts and clicking of tongues is some medium... But words change the world where lords fail to write laws to keep us sane, and instead have swords forged to have any man slain.

An inquisitive arised
to understand relationship
a window opened
and saw something strange
a thickly populated forest
walked slowly
found an old building
entered
and find
my suppressed wishes
my lost friends and relatives
my ideas and unread books
my encyclopaedia of character
a huge tank of sperms
my details of weakness
.........................
came out
found a signed register
it has a lot of visitors
checked date and
the name of the people
those names matched
the names of friends and lovers
Understood
theirs  soul would have visited
before confirming my relationship
Is this kind of checking
and ticking relationship
called "INTUITION"

I recall the wonder of discovery and
The awesome Technicolor  
When you , taking me in your hand,
Perplexed the monarch of my affections  
And I was a spinster no longer

My cataracts bent themselves rectangle
As you made primetime of my matinee
Made me pixellated  

The world was square
And the Sky without limits
When I moved you into my private chamber

The pause button, having broken
Made us live in the moment  

Every sound wave a fluttering falsetto
That we dare not turn the channel over

You came to me in flat format
But you were the set top box of times now gone
I longed to open you up
And absorb your teletext- the sonnets of old

Primetime was a kaleidoscope
As I lay there in bed with you, my precious television
Suddenly this slim rectangular riddle, when switched on,
was a philanthropist without shackles  
The infinite gift that kept on giving

Mid-way through Holby City
20:20
Vision slipping
I lay there captivated by the elements of some fictional dame
And her fiery mane as it lights up the screen
The screen flickered 24 frames per second
And with it I slip into a familiar abyss

Ah, the reassuring comfort of my companion  
And how you lulled me to sleep  

Every press of the remote was a celebration of my admiration
Groping and clinging to it like some wilting tradition  

Night after night you kept me company
Breathing warmth and pointing your aerial towards me
As I begged Mr Murdoch to
Open my eyes and fill me with information

Nothing dared distract me from you
Though there are those that tried
Those who found themselves muted

I was glued
And when the schedules faded to shopping or teletext
I’d switch you off
And listen to you on standby
How your heavy breathing would soothe me

The red on/off light that burns brightly into the night
Lets me know that you are alive

I hide the remote from prying eyes
Beneath the pillow that, on top, sit’s the TV guide
My encyclopaedia to the stars  

How you have pleased me endlessly  
Illuminating me
Filling me with light

I swift you off and reach for the plug
When suddenly a shock of electricity runs through my body
I feel it in my bones
You are possessive
It reminds me that I am alive

End

I feel powerless,
Lately I have been too self less,
The desire for sleep has increased,
I have been feeding my inner beast
I dream of flying to middle East
Then after a while I'm thinking about the evening feast,
My efficiency has decreased,
I feel like I'm in debt of happiness ,
And I'm paying my dues with my happiness.
Everything seems blurred ,
I'm listening to juice wrld
Sometimes I think I'm so bad
I can feel my heavy head
With all the thoughts and idea
I'm surfing in the waves of social media
My book feels thicker than an encyclopaedia
I like exploring but I'm bored
I'm about to explode
Okay I exploded,
Now I feel light and unloaded,
Pheww...
Yeah I definately feel better,
I'm reading the old letters
Listening to memories,
It's already 10 in the night
I'm happy to see my bed and pillow
Imagining the looks of an armadillo
Now I'm in the garden full of flowers
Running and looking for shed because of rain shower
Aaahh the cool breeze
I'm at my ease
I wish time could freeze
Ooh my god this is heaven indeed
Just breath and breath
Just let me sleep....