Mister Bourdain clearly in abject pain
The cook feeling crook can't refrain
Asked about same subject did complain
Coffee's not a culture he does explain
Why do they sustain their campaign
His bane such nonsense won't wane
Not like the throng along the Seine
Nor the glitz of Biarritz or arcane Spain
We know a barista may have to train
Wittily says in Italy have made it plain
Breakfast frothy coffee then not again
The agony of Anthony fuels his disdain
Slicker chair made from wicker & cane
Hysteria like wisteria on a trendy lane
Specs and pecs those necks will crane
Feline design plastic surgery is insane
Their ilk less coffee more milk will contain
Let's end yuppie caffeine bean reign
The vastly ghastly inane finally slain
Shallow callow stain down the drain
Forget arty farty latte said Bourdain
He did maintain to party & entertain
Not trippy dippy hippy Lion's mane
Go loco coca not cocoa yep cocaine
With lank longish hair, of virtue most spare
Hollow cheeked, with joints that creak..An elderly evil proponent of deaths i see there is a reek a pungence of cadavers in such abundance, he knows not where he has buried children a'plenty Grandfathers their
Wives, but then for satan he strives.' He must at least rank as a liutennant skull and
Cross bones on his pennant, a trace of accord..He has trodden the boards floors he is invisible on the black squares.' And will never give up his share.' He mooted for
Guvenor of Gaza, no other i dare could
Show such brass neck.' Of tony blair, who will
Be, no doubt? flexing his ropey old pecs.'
Can you feel the real deal hoodoo or juju hex
One sex tech conquest & manifest wrecks perplex
Flex your cerebral cortex protest against the new Rex
Hullabaloo of voodoo we must contest & vex
Vain inane randy Deejays handy on dandy sandy decks
A bane.. vloggers..joggers & bloggers texts & trend treks
Reign of hooray Henry’s forays with oversized unwise specs
Disdain from plain Jane “ex” glowering while devouring Tex Mex
Train..campaign for brawn not brain.. divulging bulging necks & pecs
The lot have got an absurd follow the word of the herd complex
Flecks of lies flutter & splutter in the utter nutter echo chamber gutter that is “X”
Never ending..mind bending curmudgeon bludgeon chorus of Tyrannosaurus Techs!
Their ma & pa were Eastenders
Blah blah..don’t remember the Blitz
Brash Cockney pretenders..same flash apparel
Let's get our mitts on a stash of Aperol spritz
Dimwits just going on benders
Bawdy tawdry mockney skits
Gits getting off their t*ts
Twits showing off their bits
Who fits?..Identikit Brits..pout
All about the clout of gaudy glitz
Silhouettes of stiletto dancers & handbags
Riff raff as naff as an 80’s cornetto
Perms & permatans..sl*gs..fancy dans in glad rags
Rhyming slang falsetto twang libretto
Chancers on a stag..s*ag nip & tuck hags
Nags of WAGS made up to the nines
Brag after cocaine lines did blag
One snag..look like a dag in drag
All from the fashion label stable
No restraint.. cannot refrain
Grandstand the brands fable
Diadora diaspora ..Fila Villa
With a Pierre Cardin Jardin
Taint just like they do in Spain
Sex..success…the way you dress
Prosecco fizz...getting in a tizz
Gilded specs and builded pecs
Greed and that need to impress
Avoid don't feed this schadenfreude hell
That is indeed called Costa Del ESSEX
.
did yourn bard
tell ya
share with ya
thuh warm mine felt
exspecially when
her mitts
likewise
grip'n thick digits
stroll'd mine pecs
lock'n just bellow
mine short rib
no tickle
just warm
okay
tickle
yet warm
did yourn bard
tell ya
hers scream'd
lock'n tight mine
when all uv mine
holler'd
yesss
holler'd
"i love you"
A gem there is, that’s nestling inside me
(my husband claims I’m talking utter rot):
I tell him that I’m certain that I’ve got
homunculi who really want to ride me.
He knows the satisfaction he’s denied me:
(since nineteen ninety-four, delivered squat).
But men have egos, have to show as ‘hot’,
and I’ve allowed this utter fraud to guide me.
“De minimis,” they say, “non curat lex”.
‘The law does not extend to trivial things’.
But I’m aware that love is borne on wings:
as John Wayne said, we’re better Tex than Mex.
We women have our crystals, men their pecs,
but they have no monopoly on flings.
The word ‘romance,’ according to the dictionary
means excitement, adventure, and something extremely real.
Romance should last a lifetime.
—Billy Graham
Imbibing Imaginations
In my deepest fantasies, you don’t belong
tethered to a buoy, singing that siren song.
Bring your flute and kisser, near, nearer, Dear.
Swim with me through deep sea caves; don’t fear.
You’ve moistened your instrument, your lips.
Now that you have a tail too, let’s practice flips.
I glisten like diamonds, my hair is ruby; sea green eyes
stare at you, as now, you appear muscular; in disguise.
We ride the aquamarine tides, in folds of fire coral, draped.
With only our imbibing imaginations - from reality, escaped.
Tales of, mer-lads and -lass, regenerating legs in flutter kicks.
Move in close, closer, Dear; taste my moist and salty lips.
I’m always with you in deepest fantasies; lady of mystery
will unmask, unwind, adventure with you; a lifetime history.
Should we tell the sea creatures what we have been hiding?
It is the secret of a long marriage; in one man’s pecs, abiding.
Today, l went whale watching
I was left in complete awe
The magnificence of these beautiful creatures
Hugged my being to the core
Their amazingly huge yet graceful bodies
Playfully breaching into the air
Slapping their pecs in the water
To their own grandeur… oblivious and unaware
It was a truly special sight to behold
Nature in its rawest and purest form
To see such majestic creatures
Engulfed my being with a joyful warmth
The day you passed
Empty is my heart, full is my mind: filled with what ifs the Shoulda Woulda could have been. Cold nights now, no longer enthralled by your raw essence saltiness after shave and metal. Just thinking of it sends Shivers up my spine, and drives me mental.
The shenanigans twinkling in your eye, the shape of your lip as it traces on my thigh the touch of your hand caressing my shape and back up again.
Sensing your breath upon my neck, callused but soft are your hands, as a mere whimper escapes my mouth.
Now all I see is your death and not your member or our sex.
Your pecs Where it connects to your chest the place I would lay my head and rest there’ your gunshot wound.
In that spot as I lay listening to the pounding feeling you throbbing harder.
Now thoughts of unpleasant thoughts, atrium cardias to rigamortis spooning on me in our bed.
Nighta full of Terror and torture I'm now a mourners with PTSD and anxiety disorder.
Big fight
Last night
Clyde's Bar
Bizzare
Tough guys
Streetwise
Much brew
Fists flew
Thrown chairs
Pulled hairs
Black eyes
Loud cries
One bloke
Nose broke
Heads bashed
Teeth trashed
Knives slashed
Pecs gashed
Cops came
To tame
Powwow
Peace now
All's well
That's swell
Great fight
Last night
“You can’t hide behind your finger..”
– Greek Proverb
You can’t hide behind your finger…
Nor behind your toe,
Your painted nails blazes trails
Everywhere you go.
Lashes, you can’t hide behind
For radars everywhere,
You can’t hide all that spied
Underneath your hair.
As eyeballs are upon you
Watching every step...
You can’t hide behind your pecs
Nor even your bicep.
Now, understand you can’t conceal
All you have become,
You can’t hide behind your finger...
Nor behind your thumb!
Another day at the gym,
Pumping iron for the swell.
Aching muscles feeling grim,
As I put myself through hell.
Boneless chicken that I bake,
Egg whites keep me lean.
Protein powders in a shake,
With a dose of creatine.
Heavy squats inflate the quads,
Bench presses for my pecs.
Arm curls to increase the odds,
In the mirror just to flex.
Pull-ups will expand the lats,
Back with snatch and grabs.
Cutting out excessive fats,
And crunches for my abs.
Stretching to protect my calves,
Dumbbells for bulging traps.
Smearing on more greasy salves,
For running more than twenty laps.
After many hours dripping sweat,
My daily workout finally done.
Don't you know I won't regret,
While basking in the blazing sun.
The dance begun
The moment their eyes locked
There was something there
For a second she felt it
A sly grin covered his face
She turned away
To avoid his stare
She knew he would be too much to handle
Six foot two with bulging pecs
Stacked in a fitted shirt
He looked appealing
The music played on
She swayed to the beat
Solo on the dance floor
She knew she captivated the room
And his eyes in particular
Five inch heels accentuated toned calves
Slinky skirt wrapped her thighs
As her Hips swayed from side to side
He watched her every move
Filled with anticipation
It won’t be long now
Before he joins her for the dance
Published in "Movement" 2022
He is an old man now
Eighty-six in 2022.
He has not aged a day though.
He is drawn the same, only better.
We recognize his red cape and red boots.
His shiny tight-fitting suit shows off his pecs.
He has the handsome squared jaw we have always seen.
And those blue eyes! Eighty-six, really Superman?
We have Covid No Big Deal.
We sing, and dance do the Virginia Reel
Swing our partners round and round.
Prance our droplets all over this here town.
Showing our muscles, displaying our pecs.
None of us knowing the long-term effects.
We have Covid No Big Deal.
Let’s all share a community meal.
We will not wear masks or take precautions at all.
You cannot make us grow our brains big or tall.
Science means nothing. The CDC is our enemy.
We happily get our misinformation on TV.
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