Any old fool even olderrr...would think 'twas to encounter err..
Well yes'nno
Why, go down to a pillpoppin Peninsula where almost every slightly busier atchin tan
Has discarded pil pax
to remind one of their ...?? what?
(that mummy - at least she educated me your yummy mummy tele..vision...
and ten times worse than i had in my quite insightful imagination;
that mummy hadn't trained herself to multi-task via my little undigital timer device... on thistermorn as if i even think twice
on the wrong things rather than in fifteen minutes the main battery will run down
so find a solution, there's only ever one
or one can do nothing with the good version, of Zeal... as 'zones' are for being in ALL the way)
Anyway... there was only one truly necessary why-quest..
Four years ago, there you are...
The last, or virtually...
single tenant, at a real 21st C Woodlanders
so called settlement.
Almost all of them on the skag or whatever the modern term for popping horsey tranq is...
and the real no substances, version: up all night him hoarding ...even his own substances, poo.
Despite a memory where he can recited
even Young Ones sketches from when he was excited
to be normal and alive.
Anyway fair dinkum at least one at The Source did at least agree..in hoarded words:
"Over half a decade i watched as the Rachman-builder and his liege
Twinblack shiny four rings five grand number-plates
they abused Missused [as 'twas her thing really] and generally goaded
their single tenants, sober or loaded
always..i watched one by one.....
them going for (in 'we have a LOVELY community')
modern rural reality - pestilence hoarding sickness and 'pity me'
the singletons, first..but almost last, me..
that took some people-skills, in reality
which actually means just be an island:
the drains block, get out your own magic wand
dont bug her as she's clinically insane....
a man just has his own rods... above their game"
But having persisted through such INTERESTING reality
you won't ever hear from some lanyarded ejit from sector 'three'
Along comes at last one who one can have a conversation with.
Ok took one wrong turn in his otherwise quite good philosophical education
thinking his Clash were anything other than noisy scaredy cat Londoners
fearful of ever growing up with their juvenile calling, fantasy....
never mind 'fighting' any 'law' without learning first to have a notepad and two pens ready for
the information passed over the telephone
that may indeed save child, or home...
(get a mate, in.... one way or other... as the reality behind the housing benefit figures a little snot rag on wireless four wouldnt know if it whacked him in the nose as it runs away slamming the door behind off out onto the sidewalk for good, or ill)
Anyway all long understood, but how can one, especially then, in times of media preached 'kindness' and "community" ...after a year of enjoyable slam poetry and even genuine appreciative harmony over the philosophical words of some or other once bard, the ones the herd wont be eulogisin' at his passin... as they're thy so common showy ones
the subtle so much more,
is less, and less is always more.
(as he alone did know once, a twinflame true
is a finest silver lining from their great big twenty twenty STOP all through to two)
So there you are in times of rents going up at a rate FAR higher than ever before... when quite unnecessary. Never mind antipathy, or is that ...pathetic, to every word out of the pathetic Narniac nonsense in so called 'society'...
In some signage with expensive lamination
a completely theme park fantasised nation.
meaner crueller than ever before.
(even if world champion free rental for near two years smiley smiley who could ask for more)
But the one... the only one
with whom one had any cultural/philosophical/enlightened affinity
" come on... gis a hand you fat bastard big buider build of a man, .... this last sofa is rather heavy just for me.."
All i really needed to know four years ago... why?
why...
Why did even he, just feel self pity and
moan misery?
And it is utterly coincidental
that he had been a decade in the peninsula of the 99% mental
I had no idea, this was Southern Britain universal...
Of course the North brainwashed by Burnham-Raynerites
that endless misery and confected self pity
is how to get even more that same dull currency.
Such that they believe it are it....
so forget themtoo
Anyway someone once said to me "write it and it will be"
Bullshit fantasy
going by her disingenuous recreation; of nothing but gin sozzled materiality.
But ten years...well the hardest sharp elbowed truth
it did actually begin on Boxing Day twenty fifteen
when the VERY last Worst Journey in The World i may imagine
turned around and bitt me in the bum: because it can.
Be exactly the opposite of what you assume
and whom
you KNOW you are: unable ever to do that
And it's the only story ever worth
a dime or cent...
not ever possible to find anyone to pay half the rent
But my my it was... actual "work" done that really did cause
...
the only worthwhile thing
to be cont
