Buying Into Purgatory ….

Nightmarish existence, living

Psychotic subsistence – cloaked in

Surreptitious surrounds, hell’s drug-abused

Clowns and sucking every penny

Out of food for children’s bellies

Sickness un-minded: lost, undecided

Anything for a stone, and those

Dirty dogs cajole – control: fillies

Suck bone – on a roll, as their dwindling

Bag is sold, to Daddies of the

Arena – who only smoke grade

Sensimillia; money thrives

Satyrs wilfully waste sad lives

 

See addicts trapped in traumatic

Cul-de-sacs , without ways or means

How, to secure adequate escape

Huddled under dark, covered night

As artificial, as curtains tight

Locked in perpetual, miasmic

Crack-lairs – sweaty, freebase trap-house dens

Demons at home – in place – their cocooned

Space, betrothed to a breed of fiends

Single-mindedly intentioned

Attuned to pipe, and survival

 

Sardines with crackers, late midnight

Hours – hunger’s bitches cling on

Syringed wrists sport scabby pus-holes

Tightly twist – eyes blurred, run water

Clouded acetylene mist; wet

Sodden, rouge cheeks glint reflected

Beams – surreal streaks redeem – jetting

Milky streams and absolutely

Devastated, burdened self-neglect

 

Wasted lives under psychotic drives

Intestinal twitches grip rolling

Bilious bellies, convulsing

Rapidly retching spasms, spurting

Slimy, sluiced, dribbling saliva

Mouth-corners unconsciously leak spit

Battered lips betray filthy habits

Aligned cash vessels – ruled by devils

Under Crack-cocaine spell, living hell

Minions of far distant drug cartels …

 

Anniversaries Are Supposed To Be Fun:

We went back home, just me and mom

Became strong when Sun started healing

Overcome with our village welcome

That was – to her – the sweetest thing

When she died I was so bereaved

Nothing said could make me feel better

Torn apart, perpetually grieved

Worse, when people seemed to forget her

 

September come around , again

My mind acts with new custom

With which I now duly contend

Hurt is not immediate, it’s from

Memory usurped experience

Calls my name from deep inside my brain

Its irreversible hindrance

Makes me think I’m actually insane

 

Lord!  Me mother – me mother, woie!

She really gone – I just feel to cry

Take me instead, this ain’t no ploy

I’ve never been afraid to die

Sent two passages for me to come

Me an’ my gran squandered the first

Thrilled to bits seeing me – an’ then some

Her heart was so full it nearly burst

 

I realize now, she just waited

Acceptance was not a favoured trait

Fought hard anything that baited

Her iron will I’d never seen break

That bag of miscellaneous pills

Always upset me very much

Like an assassins gun, to kill

Victims with a sympathetic touch

 

May-be that’s why she over-nursed me

My younger siblings had more freedom

Without my mom at the age of three

Seven when I next clasped her bosom

I just can’t seem to get over it

Harder I try the more pain I feel

Strong drink deadens pain a little bit

And a spliff of weed is no big deal

 

Hume’s First Cause:

I pondered Hume’s theory of cause and effect, for years the; first cause being the object of intense scrutiny, in relation to the existence of God (JAH).  It makes irrefutable sense, something had to have happened to trigger the point – installation – when life on earth began.  Nature, obviously, is a supernatural force but what actually drives it?  The art of perfection is a fundamental resource of nature, Darwinists claim the phenomenon of natural selection.  But, if we take the human body as a theoretical point of analysis and discussion, the question remains: how could the human body, thereafter, be so perfected in its natural state?  The state, of: birth, progressive growth and maturity matches a blueprint that, it is impossible to believe the blind forces of nature stumbled upon a perfect formula – in order to invent and create mankind; remembering both male and female are needed to inculcate the whole biological programme.  There has to be an initial form of super/ hyper Intelligence, which originally instilled the progressive system of developing life, as it has come to be known.

 

 

Friday Soon Come:

In the suburbs, where things are tight

Dissent and unrest steadily grows

Many hungry bellies touching blight

Families’ hushed tones hide secret woes

Hopeless cases abide by the law

Whilst clever souls simply bend the rules

Sex and drugs expose social flaws

Legal concerns are just for fools

 

People maintain set routines

Regular lifestyles fit like glove

Wild youths prepare for weekend scenes

From Chapeltown Road, to Ladbroke Grove

All live split personalities

Schizophrenia means normal life

Release valves cool instabilities

We need cut-offs from worry and strife

 

Daily grind, holding nine-to-five

Alert Monday morning, well fresh

Spring in your step – good to be alive

Children attend baby-minder’s crèche

Work – always on best behaviour

Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth

Friday comes like blessed saviour

Soon time to rave and gad about

 

Rude girls set themselves for nights out

Scented and dolled-up to the nines

Hollerin’ ’nuff noise with raucous shouts

Bags packing make-up, strong drink and wines

Possees revel to draw attention

Flimsily dressed – bare skin on show

Making obvious they’re out for action

Provocative dance make emotions flow

 

Sunday, when one-night lodger’s gone

Showing your age, pushing forty

Warm sudsy bath lasts very long

Hangover makes kids tread softly

A low-key day, stepping on eggshells

Early evening, still doing chores

‘Every day bucket go a’ well

Bottom will drop-out,’ wont go no more.

 

Counting The Money:

Down below Sugarloaf mountain

Olympus succinctly returns

Sport’s elite effervescent fountain

Exceeds – in cycle – whilst flame burns

Nations, hogspewing sheer turmoil

Comply with seedlings ‘pon order

Superfit athletes bred on home soil

Assail eternity’s border

 

Dominant personalities

Copiously thrusting to fore

Lightning Bolt aroused anxieties

Ardent supporters hope for more

Bias denies further seepage

Expose other cheats – amid concern

Still, Russia’s toxic heritage

Dwarfs stars’ orbit round five-ringed sun

 

With gargantuan achievment

Phelps’ shadow cast prosperity

Powered beyond life’s element

Receives quaint immortality

States’ shape-shifting amphibian

Gold his habitual reward

Oh yes!  The boy’s all-american

Concedes nothing – and fights so hard

 

King Cash hails global audience

Communications seethe billions

Industry gushing abundance

The B.B.C. riding pillion

Clouded in steep controversy

Certain to bemuse the ancients

Surely an embarassed I.O.C.

Need to impute a new advent

 

Why Allow Cheats to Prosper?

The Olympics claim pride of place, with stupendous elitist prestige.  Brazil 2016. continues to fester so many negative variables, no matter how much window-dressing BBC comentators pursue; it’s hard to reconcile Brazil 2016. with the spirit of Olympic grace and diligent competition, which we have become addictively used to.  The cheats are relentless; refusing to defer from a recognised gateway to fame and considerable riches.  We all know Russia’s unforgivable sin but, the Kenyan official who posed as a competitor, to cheat the detection system – on behalf of said competitor – shows how deeply, desperately and cynicly beyond reason the despicable cheats have become.  There is a straightforward solution, and Seb Coe shouldn’t shirk when it comes to making the right decision.  Those callous and unrighteous deceivers should be banned for life; and, without any explanatory apology.

“The Football Is Great – can’t say much else…”

The England game was sweetly frustrating; Russia hung on for dear life and, in so doing, extracted the greatest reward – a last minute equalizer.  I was disappointed with Hodgson’s team selection, because Wilshere walks into any international eleven, he’s that kind of player.  Also, great as Harry Kane is and contrary to what he believes – regardless of how many phenomenal goals scored – Harry Kane is not the finished article, he’s not clinical enough.  Mr Rooney, as usual, subtly and sublimely ran the show – he’s the undoubted brains of the English operation.  Rooney was majestic and indomitable, taking him off was a sad mistake; England frittered at the seams and lost all sense of progressive coherence.  Oh yes, the performance was laudable and totally commendable but the result took that beautiful edge, that England deserved, off it.

England will qualify as group winners, I am totally convinced but, it can all go awry if Hodgson repeats the sad mistakes of the Belgium manager, and fields the wrong team.  The country will get off Wayne Rooney’s back now, because they’ve finally realised he’s been England’s best player, and for some time now.  I go as far, as to say: ” It’s Rooney’s team and he makes it tick, as a complete unit.”  The Wales game is not such a foreboding prospect; it’s the same Gareth Bale who played for Spurs, not so long ago.  So What?  He’s joined the Galacticos, and rubs shoulders with CR7.  What’s the big deal?  Rooney made a vast percentage of Christiano’s goals, at Manchester United.  Actually helping Ronaldo on his way to greatness and universal stardom.  The thing is: Rooney is rated a lot more highly abroad, than he is in his own country but, anyone who knows football – from a very young age – will know, Wazza is easily England’s best player; he has been for the last ten years.

Those idiots who tarnish the image of ‘the beautiful game,’ should be seen and recognised for what they are: brainless, mindless fools intent on self-degradation.  The fact that they are allowed to leave: Russia, and England, calls into question the security forces and the measures they employ.  Those fools probably don’t even watch the game when play commences.  They are the Devil’s spawn, driven by hatred and malice, and should be banished from the company of decent-living true football supporters.  The festival will be ruined, if these fools continue to be allowed to attack and abuse true supporters.  Maybe if England had football drop-ins, and met the real fans in conference, it would empower the real fans to expose and eject those fools from the host of admirers, who truly love England and football.  Something must be done because football is too good, to be trashed like it is being.

Hear Young Voices:

Meditation well expansive

Some focussing global terrain

miniature worlds’ science exclusive

Technology gone blatantly insane

Information thrives wicked black-market

Nation states stand not an earthly chance

Involved in salacious mega-money rackets

Teenage lolitas – for supper – dance

Circles forced into unfitting squares

Mirror hungry children when cupboards

Bare; lost, tiresome weary space

Compelled to hug, eat warm embrace

Setting stall, obviously knowing the drill

On occasion, love can kill

Relentlessly divining hatred, née

Jealousy supreme; invisibly

Conspiring ostentatious extreme

Pay priced, neglectful misconception

Opened drains effect misappropriation

Guide, support, teach them from young

Keep up streaming equilibrium

Suffer yourself; be paid in full

Judgment prefers bending backs, who pull

Education’s beautiful road to salvation

Disseminates knowledge, sharing our load

Imputed History’s diasporic concentration

Each individual ‘selects’ destiny’s abode

Making – sometimes – avaricious choices

Religion exudes definitive tracks

Tempted souls endure contentious noises

Yielding soiled obnoxious attacks.

A Novel Way To Take:

Jealousy short as envy screw

Frazzled mind sore blighted

Crazily chased after you

Spitting eccentric superlatives

Arrows pierce besotted mawking

Fuddled intentions make mistake

One thousand million reworking’s

Hardly soothe unnecessary heartache

Misplaced wiles hope, seeking love

Knowing not she deemed flow

Thoughts conjure secret treasure trove

Hidden climes course west wind blow

Shouted – perchance her answered call

But, failed to garner good response

Echoes bouncing loudly bawled

Emotional waves cruelly danced

“Sweet me not!  You devil may care

Many times seen your raucous way

Having me on your bed threads bared

Fleshly lust you deign fore play

She quickly sought to thwart my mind

Teased until rude thoughts explode

Refused my heart space, to unwind

Neither enter my scented abode

There’s Fire Burnining:

Afforded myself wild-side jaunts

Carefully ogled C.B.B

Miscellaneous social plants

Mixed outrageous celebrity

Diversity secretly gloats

Time-incubated role-devils

Aggregately downed viewers’ throats

Gambled expectant probables

Tell tale admonished silver birch

Dole metro-sexuality

Bitch-slapped periodic approach

Paused redundant causality

Yesterday’s frantic dream covers

Showcase expensive ambience

Force-played sluice-dripping left-overs

Starry-eyed youth compete, entranced

Placid-butt ingrained submissive

Engage silly, idle combustibles

Arranged ways chosen people give

Planned forays across simple clues

Mini examples ply rancid appeal

Spout edified, frivolous chat

Gut-wrenched slaver quickly congeals

treacherous, conniving lab-rats

Buxom short-skirted broads, arouse

Full-blooded macho interest

Temptation grips deceitful spouse

Caught between titillating breasts

Rouge seeps betrayal’s heaving bust

Tastily goading ‘phat’ rewards

Sold-out, bristling fleshly lust

Punched cash-incentive credit cards

Old friendships sever binding ties

Slippery birds grace feathered nests

No word of greeting – as crows fly

Titled cheats sporting well-marked crests

Two-on-one perform bedroom stance

Flout open, trusted symmetry

Callous, abused tame acceptance

Enjoy rampant carnality

She’s Gone:

Destiny turns forbidden corner

Slyly invokes mind-bending choice

One slip beyond fate’s treacherous border

Pours silent scorn ‘pon loudest voice

King Cash inveigles vigilance

Quietly lulls with deft surprise

Poisoned future, as consequence

Weep, weep and mourn desolate cries

 

Look how sweet heaven opened

For honest people to see; scented

Aspirations bloom full season

Beyond nature’s facile recipe

Vengeful trolls invade fissured screens

Bleep in and out of broadcast

No slight idea they contravene

Values consigned realities past

 

Age conspired to take control

Fragrant career toiled well behind

Experience mourns depleted soul

Cruelly sentenced ‘life of crime.’

Beauty wont come out anymore

She’s locked in wrinkled, folded flesh

Blotchy, pimpled pus-weeping sores

Simply reduce to hideous mess

 

She looked bewitchingly beautiful

Alluring dress – no hair out of place

Coquettishly oozed slight examples

Beguilingly scoped innocent grace

Loitered such scurrilous avenues

Respected neither feeling, nor truth

Made sheer mock’ry of hidden virtue

Frivolously accounted spoiled youth

 

Trapped in devious glass vial

Sweet surrender succours tainted vice

Assume precious life: be trivial

Stunted silence could never suffice

Missed – without adequate explanation

Eagerly suck turmoil’s constraint

Darkest night expose limitation

Mute acceptance offer no complaint

 

New Dream seems irretrievably lost

Guaranteed survival lack success

This fantasised reality cost

Much more than readily confessed

Would have given anything she asked

Need not have cut to the very bone

Since taking love’s familiar to task

Paid very dearly; left all alone

Cracked-Out: for real.

Becoming so embarrassing
Locked in private world of his own
Complicated problems he brings
And never repaying his loans
Always pushing some gripe, bitching
Eternally, wont ever stop
Lacking control, much hype; twitching
Habitually spitting slops

Breeches pulled tight, sag at the waist
Holding his belly up with twine
Shoe soles glued with adhesive paste
Badly in need of polished shine
Hard to believe he goes to work
Earns a fairly decent packet
Income seeping, sucked into coke
Look! His eyes, those bulging sockets

He’s a dab hand with plastic cards
A nose like a tug-boat’s funnel
Sagging belly turned to lard
Baggy pants hiding a tunnel
Course he moonlights for extra cash
Comfortably maintains his habit
Looking like a major car crash
Not really in it, to win it