100 nosey parkers
doubtless so still pretending to be forever young wearing parakas
purchased in some Ssswestern 'flea market'
where even the fleas run away crying at all the potions
and fake emotions
never mind " fuck this for a game of soldier ants
fifty quid for a moth eaten pair of old pants.."
And poisoned by the doggie powders
(EVEN SOUTHERN WATER SAID a few months ago, quite rightly
" we cant cope.... your doggie [toxic fleapowder] 'dope'
ends up down the drains and can be scientifically discovered
right out at sea!...
you have to take some responsibility too...
what's goin down your draains and
prozac pissin down YOUR loo!"
But of course whatever is the next 'formation'
of these
(even if its hilarious
the 'doctors' now rolled out
(bet theyve been paid a commission
by the department of work n pension
" ... all these labels and little hissy fits, nefarious
labels and other normal life-sucks-then-you-die stresses
[ i mean the poetic skill as i never have a second to think
a though bubbles up catch it before its in the sink
hole, of all the other lost thoughts,
all of which i still have even from
pierces posts half rit 3 years ago
still active alive, nonghosts
but rhymin hilarious and the exact right word nefarious
i never even use in real life
meanderin the hills ten years just to run into some
just about acceptable two-per-woodburner Missus Wife..
But you cant use big words to their face
i aint stupid,
fist job, find out if there are two stuck in place
where real rural peeps know that the meaning of life
is take down your mask, and if two visages
well at least coordinate the messages
one hand writes and the other seems to blow cold water innit]
shut up and get a job...
or else its hunger time
even if the Tourette's interferes with functionality of said gob ..."
ehh wahat was i gonna ramble on about
At least nobody can call me
ADHD
as evben the ministress of it
says " get a life"
but theyll never say due health and safety (their Yank insurer's ts and cs) backlash
two per cooker never mind motor, saves your cash
you can then spend on overpriced vintage
and carry on perpetuatin' the mintage
mint age....
of breath smelling 'nice'
due some sweetie
or very very aromatic rice
and well the latterday vice
Im amazed he himself aint removed it
THE story of this pathetically precious century
only a truest ever genius (century ends)
can get spatula, broccoli.... and clearly alliteration of what theyre up to
down and dirty under the 'hem of the night' as the rice is burnin
their whole bourgeois castle of a house
down
And then..... domnt blame anyone else!
They casteratti'd him
Toned him down " or else dave..."
so yes it wont make much sense
but in fact the one lie i HUMBLY mutter over the last decade
was... " well im kindof writing about ten books, concurrently
which was sort of true but not exactly organisatedly
but then.... even if ONLY about lasterregion i wouldnt return to if you paid me
the necessary security costs of protection from badger exterminator
MAccurachs' ex SAS buddies
(him vic to them twelve years if memory serves)
even if they were seen in them hills, these
But thats not the point
As in fact when you have nine books to finish about there
and then....
a last dull quarter decade here makes it ten
Thing is my non existent ADHD
as even Starmerstan wants to roll out default
" your ferkin parents FAULT"
but thats not inclusive of the 'looked after'
mentally murdered by Local Authority
only really 'manifests' symptomatically,
cos i aint got a socket just an old battery!
And in the meanest region ive ever known
all quarter of a decade even the bishop my supposed buddy
and her extremely expensively renovated home
never mind deny
my walkin companion
a ferkin address to which can be delivereth a parcel she needed from fuckin Amazon
(that was mine in fact ...
but thats a more subtle mutual aid tract
being i donated 200 hours to her for free
attemnpting to save her from the doctors and healers who never fixed her
by expletivating " if you wanna live another XMAS tart,
see the kids afront your apron, as your apron
y'all endlessly hiding bihind.. next year
silly Jesus time, too
well get walkin that fat arse
up and down The Track you live near....
even with...me"
(plus one or other of the very nice women also sourced as walking companion... why bother a death wish is a deathwish....)
Anyway..... every second though, of their gibbing (last ever usage of that obscure PAstine
word as all they do is pine
for something they never were
(EXACTLY like all 'Celtic' peoples everywhere
precisely Asterix was a real GAul
he wouldnt have gone cap in hand to Whitehall
" aww guv we need more cash as were all so so to be...pitied.. got a mil to spare")
has worked..
Because in my landloping
(ohh i do hope The Daughter may find it useful...it really is the solution:
the words do matter.. their harmony frequency and vibration
that one just says in fact its a word that whistles its own tune:
meanderin hill
(i dont recognise the showoff word 'moor' theres just dry bits and
boggy...
its either clear
or foggy
it really does say just whistle whilst you walk
or in my case talk to substack
sometimes
And the funny thing is in a load of waffles there are chapters - some extremely good
i never for a moment thought i could
that one day need tearing limb from limb
branch from poisoned tree
And put in the right order
collection
edition
and somehow bring back the gentle art of
sedition
all mountainmen farmers where i was raised
knew that cheeky jabbin
scurrilous word stabbin
is how you make new FRIENDS..
never mind learn to smile at
those bonkers lot that will be themselves to the bitterest end
anyway yes i have never in my whole life encountered such mean pouty peeps who even if ladyBish, never even ask you if you the 'traveller'
need anything, practical
and the one time you ask
you find out the real key to their horrid kingdom
of litteraly nothing but PR
spin...
hiding genuine sorrow and angst
wityhin
them all
oops thats great - the keything.... only one on my keyring
to Segway now back to the beginning
thats already in audio a day or so ago
