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.

Bittersweet lime-flavoured love
An apparition, a ghost, a face I think of
A mere shadow without definition or name
A hopefulness for the fulfilment of why I came.
Stretching into the ghetto of my mind
Is a body, a shape, a stencil of who may be mine
Reaching against the wicked hands of time
Yet never grasping; a drop of sugar, a cup of lime

Down on my knees with my hands clasped tight in prayer
And my will alone shakes the foundation, yet no one appears
Errant tendrils of loneliness grip at my rotting soul and heart
And the rejection, and the hurt, and the hope tears me apart.
I am now a sinister, cynical shell of who I used to be
And I plead, I beg the monotony to set me free
As I am suffocating on the slimmest sliver of a wish
My head turned upwards, lips waiting for a kiss.

Whether love, or like, or grudging intimacy
So be it, for I need it, and whatever else it may be
Thus, I will wait by the water's edge where the waves are violent
I'll wait at the volcano's peak, before it erupts, when all is quiet.
I'll hang to a fraying rope placed miles above solid ground
I'll stand at the edge of a tall building and dizzy myself looking down
Until someone, or something, arrives from somewhere to extend my time
Until the taste finally fades: a drop of the sweetest sugar, a cup of bitter lime.

Nefarious;

A man said,
"we have been tried and weighed,
yet we are found wanting"
with free will we were ordained
men of yore and of new age shall seeks;
to deify, to rule,  and to escape

A man also said,
"Each new morn, new widow howls,
new infants cry,  
new insults slap the face of heaven"
but punishment comes not,
no, all the heavens does is but watch

I say,
"Through trials and test of darkness,
we shall revolve"
but the will need break free
a step to triumph and liberation;
'know friends and enemies apart'

Want and needs,  desires and greed;
clouds human's soul
and so we choose what to believe,
never questioning the slimmest chance of untrue
and so we live,
like a horse tied to rein,  led by the noose


©Pen of a True Gemini™
Monarch Muse™
23rd July,  2023

Welcome to the Adagio of my Soul,
Where that slow, slow, sad and sweet melody
Drags me ever deeper and deeper below,
As demons and monsters in panoply
Frolic, full of cheer, in the blazing abyss.

Salute, from the Allegro of my Mind,
That dreadfully cheerful, quickening time;
The one that comes when burnt bridges I find
All around me, as insanity's rhyme
Taunts me terribly, all my world's amiss.

Enter the Fortissimo of my Heart,
While it screams out loud, oh so silently,
To its love, desperately wanting part,
The slimmest, smallest of portions to be
Returned in kind, brush of the lips, a kiss.

End.  Pianissimo of my Body.
Lost love, burnt bridges, demon and monster,
Surround me. Overwhelm me.  Defeat me.
I lay alone.  The music grows quieter.
The song of my life, comes now to but this...

2 addicts in conversation

I've always said the act of love itself from unrequited to world wind is a drug that claims more addicts than all narcotics combine. From the rush to the withdrawals. tears and anticipation to the eruption of having it taken from you. This love drug leaves you a fiend even if you've never participated in its consumption, you pursue, hunt, track and lose your mind for the slimmest of chance in its acquisitions.
Let's take a hit together now and forever. As friends, lovers, partners, and unify.
I feel you! I hear you! Where siblings of the same needle in its lust and retrieval.
-xin-

Jim died last night, slipped away like the slimmest embers of light that, from time to time, would reach their arms through the clouds to show themselves. I wonder where he is glowing, if he kindled his spirit to the stars, the gray moon, the forever burning sun.

I stared into his empty room last night, the air a silent breath synced with mine, and it felt so unexpected, it felt wrong and cruel and hostile. I didn’t get to say goodbye.

When I walked home the next morning, I felt like my lips had meant to mutter some form of plea into that void space that were all cradled together by a wrinkled blanket we had not yet washed.

I left the newspaper out for him.

8 a.m shrieking birds and gravel crunching underneath my worn shoes. The morning tan wasted down to the fragmented hairs of fog that settled their bodies over the ******* of earth and I kept my eyes shut to refuse to let loose something I felt I had no control over.

At 9:30, I crawled into bed, thinking of where the sun was at his placing now, thinking of the hiding stars, the seemed to be gone, moon, and I prayed that Jim had made it to the other side.

everything paused when you waved goodbye
just going to work

every possible tragedy occurred
on the empty sofa cushion
on the arm of the chair
where one of your hairs
waved and cast the slimmest grim shadow

bella on her bed
pudding-eyed and half asleep
chewed a clump of dirt
from her forepaw
and flit tongued
it to the floor

the coffee un-poured itself from the cup
and I was ****** eastward
in your absence
yanked down the foothills of appalachia
slurred across the bay bridge
smeared like butter on the pancake peninsula
past the flash and clunking plinko machines
past the skeeball thunder and flickering schemes
and a summer week's worth
of crab thrashers and spent grease
stuck in my sinuses
past all the great juggling spectacles
of joy to find myself
ankle deep in some other ocean
breakers hammering to buckle me knees
as you turned right at the top of the street
for another sweaty shift
in the back kitchen
of someone else's dream.

For the slimmest second,
encased in a thunder's
smack
against the rough skyline.
I could breathe.

That's the truth.
Honest-to-god,
hand-on-the-bible
Truth.


Rain.
Rain shimmering in silk strands
from the roof.
All that water
somehow keeping us insulated.

"You can't go home in this," I said.

You nodded.
A car's rearview lights
slid your face into focus.
Lit by a tinned kind of moonlight.
A shake-before-pouring
brand of brilliance.

You looked out the window.
"Mad *******," you said.
But your eyes said
maybe you could follow him
onto the road.

"Yeah, one hell of a storm."

Pursed lips.
A reluctant, just formed
twitch of a smile.


You asked if I didn't mind sharing the bed.

God, I wish that I could debate my answer for more
than a millionth of a second.


And when I woke up,
you, on the other side of the bed
fingers warm,
loose,
curled around my thumb.

That was it.
That one tiny point of contact,
it lit up the sky.

And I swear,
I could breathe.

the madness of the couple
is a broken
showerhead.

the slimmest volume
of collected work
is a drop of water
lands, a drop of water
lands, no memory

is erased.

in time, I’ll prominently cover
the same topic.

I love to look good, auspicious they say
Maybe it’s to hide how ugly it is I am inside
Pretty devious indeed, so I always have one
Or more broads by my side, never suspicious
I am lustful, guess that is why I find
My prey to be delicious
Barely dressed yet heavily
Musked by all sorts of fragrance
Unaware of the malicious thoughts
That run rampant in my head
They say I have a twitch
So I had to get it fixed
But the charming ones love them a good story
And the bold ones hate Mr. Perfect
So "hear lies" my great defect
My little itsy bitty secret
I do not judge, yet still am a hypocrite
So criticize if you must
I shan’t protest, but I will guarantee
None will detest for I am your lover
And you hate how much you know me
So you ignore the parts you dislike
And cling to the façade I propose
You want me to use you and discard you
So a story you can share
I want to use you to discard me
Lose myself in the euphoria
Hoping the slimmest chance
That I find my first love and redemption
If not then the cycle repeats
And I take you over and over
With or without your permission

Tell me what is it you know of the darkness. Have you ever felt the electric shock run up your spine and freeze your muscles as you watch the end of your life unfold before you

Tell me have you prayed to every god in hopes that one might abolish your shame. Sitting on your knees until the blood pools onto the floor beneath you and dries becoming sticky.

Tell me how far have you gone to numb that pain. Have you picked fights with terrible odds and reveled in the drunken mess you've created.

Tell me have you ever escaped on the slimmest chance and tasted how thin the air becomes when you realize just how fragile it all can be.

Tell me do you live for that moment? I do.

peering into his eyes I can sense a familiar spirit
this man also lives for the thrill of testing his limits
of pushing himself just to the edge of life
leaning over to get a look at the other side
and at the last possible moment
escaping on the slimmest of chances

I wonder if this is the man to defeat me
I hope he's prepared to go all the way
that's the only way you leave a fight like this
when your opponents heart stops beating

An electric shock runs down my spine
it spreads and stuns my muscles
the air is so incredibly thin now
This is the moment I live for
when you overcome all fear
let go of the illusion of control
and ride that powerful wave into ultimate victory

Once upon a thinner time
Many pounds ago,
My neck was long and, oh, so slim...
Wherever did it go?

I had a neck, I know I did,
The slimmest one around,
But when I search the mirror now
It’s no where to be found.

I can’t say when it happened.
Time passes by so fast.
The things we take for granted are
The things that never last.

I know what prompted its demise...
‘Twas one of many sins.
I can’t say no to Twinkies
Now it’s buried ‘neath my chins.

Perhaps we’ll meet again one day,
But it matters not, you see,
For I know that with or without my neck,
I’m still the same old me.

Get wafer thin and waved right in to the slimmest thing in town,

she looked leaner than the pipe cleaner and I wasn't all that keen on her,
wasn't sure if I wanted to be seen with her, the final straw,
the one that broke the camel's back.

She was a small woman;
although, she’d be quick to point out
she was an inch too tall to be classified
a little person.
And my bed, while not massive,
it once accommodated three sleeping adults.
However, when she and I slept,
its space was tragically inadequate.
Somehow, I became like a mountain climber
forced to attempt rest on the slimmest sliver of cliff,
one wrong toss or turn in the throes of slumber
and I was an avalanche of frustration
falling for her in all the wrong ways.

We’re not together anymore—
there were few reasons much bigger than her.
How we slept, or rather,
how she slept was indicative of our issues.
If ever I start to miss her, I stretch out
and roll over back into reclaimed territory.
Her name is merely a memory
of confiscated space,
of the destructive power of avalanches

An extinction event looms,
Death arrives in under two years,
Riding on an asteroid.

Earth's future is sealed,
Salvation not possible,
Can humanity prevail?

Will chaos rule our waning days?
Will we give in to despair?
Or will we refuse to yield?

Will we sacrifice our last days,
For the slimmest ray of hope,
To preserve our human seed?

Will we face our end,
In triumphant defiance,
Or embrace despair?

You can download a copy of my eBook science fiction short story by the same name free until May 15, 2022, but only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/428820