more of this n that

THE LEFT/ as required

Best not to limit yourself
to what's supposed.
We are not here to be the hosed
nor here to keep the garden neat, Magritte.

Best to do just as you like
and fuck the fuckers turning right...
and bring them back to some accord,
some by word and some by sword.

We end up in the same old place
of who's got what and who has face
but after all, and here's the thing,
we all belong
and wear that ring.

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1Eileen Lawless

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John Arthur Fitzpatrick

18 mins · 

It's much the same
and that's the truth
what experts say
from Ted to Ruth,
and in the great expanse to come
we are far more interested
in our bum.
So we remain
a kind of stain
a kind of song
without refrain
and shrink the limits of domain
for cum and bum and rum sustain.
We are not pirates at the mast
or folk who choose
to wear no mask
we fuck around in towns of clowns
with mental meaning so profound.
Sometimes we slip into ourselves
and find our truths
so much like elves.
be off with this
be off with that
and have some guile
to chew the fat.
be yourself
for just one minute
tis an amazing thing
with no one in it.

PSYCHOLOGY In this world they make it easy to conform to life and feel so breezy but best for you to not believe in substance or in great reprieve just find your way the best you can with deserved respect and club in hand.

wine is drunk smoke is smoked and the day settles down thus unprovoked what is new and what will be is uncertain as the things you see but all in all the all provide for those who stand and those who slide and in the end we gather round to soothe the coffin into the ground we want what's new but there's the task to find a new thing in the ask.

poem todaywine is drunk smoke is smoked and the day settles down thus unprovoked what is new and what will be is uncertain as the things you see but all in all the all provide for those who stand and those who slide and in the end we gather round to soothe the coffin into the ground we want what's new but there's the task to find a new thing in the ask.

wine is drunk

smoke is smoked

and the day settles down

thus unprovoked

what is new

and what will be

is uncertain as the things you see

but all in all

the all provide

for those who stand

and those who slide

and in the end

we gather round

to soothe the coffin

into the ground

we want what's new

but there's the task

to find a new thing

in the ask.

what does a real human story ever do , if it is good, except to escape and find some new way for us?. I like fiction. It shows us the only real way forward. I think it was Lawrence Durrell who noted that...life is an awful mess and the only way we ever get to show the brilliance of life is through fiction...and I do agree. Fiction is in our hearts and souls, fiction creates what is necessary to do...and, indeed, what can be done.

Mr John Parker kissed Mrs Parker and then disappeared into nearby Alaska, as was normal, for his business. He, now, a week later, lay deep in 3 foot of new snow, watching the fine glistening road so far ahead of him. The Honda CRV came along, as was expected, in the far distance, at the right time. Parker was a mile away, well hidden in a drift of a new snow mound. Parker liked 'the cold'. He chewed on the ice to stop any steamy breath escaping him. Parker focused. The long distance rifle was pretty well perfect. His first shot hit the driver between the eyes, and blew those blue eyes across the shiny car. His second shot hit the small girl in the baby car seat behind him, in the liver. John felt a deep delight of accomplishment, and then wondered if his daughter was okay, back in Ontario. The Honda swerved on the icy road and ended up, slowing squealing on the ice road, into a heap of new snow by the side, for someone to find, much later. The sun was shining. It was 30 degrees below zero. There was no wind. There was no distraction.

Novel I'm working on: RED PACKAGE the preamble: Kali loved her work. Kali was, in a way, Asian, but mostly beyond terrestrial design. She was special. Only about 5' 2" in height, but of perfect proportion. About 20 or 50 or 70 or 13 years of age, depending on how she wished to be seen. Her skin was shiny, firm and perfect, especially in a light orange Dior gown. Her breasts were ample and her nipples fresh and bright, large and upwards. Upwards. It wasn't so much about the sexing light that shone on Kali, it was rather about the red orgasmic light coming from her that everyone noticed. She was one of those translucent beings. She had invited the swarthy, middle aged, Carlos, up to her suite in the Caracas 5 star hotel, The Diamond View, on the premise of persuading him to give preference to her company, Ottawa X, in regards to premium docking space and speed in the busy port and harbour below. Carlos was in charge of such things and was well connected to the prevailing cartel. The cartel had certain control of import and export, as was necessary, for their products. What Kali sought was a way to expedite her company's versatility and premacy in that port. She knew that Carlos was 'unbreakable' in his allegiance to the cartels, and this is why she took him up the 12 stories to her suite on a warm sultry evening. She plied him with cleavage and thighs, good wine, soft words and touches, and sweet fresh oysters from her cunt into his glad warmed mouth and just, as he was about to come inside her with a bolt of bright hard light, she sucked his mouth and slashed his throat open with a sharpened credit card. She let the card fly off, with a flick, American Express, imbedding itself in the table lamp next to the cream leather lounge on which they fucked. She felt his cum run drizzling warm in small bolts deep inside her, in muscular shimmers, as she sucked the last of the air from his throat. Then she inhaled the power of it all as he shivered in his death within her. The bad thing about cream leather upholstery is that it can be a bit sweaty on a hot night. The good thing about cream leather upholstery is that it wipes clean of blood quite easily. Below the balcony, down in the streets, the toy cars moved here and there, the lights dazzled here and there, and then the Central American night engulfed itself. Kali ordered some coffee and biscuits from room service, took them at the door wearing a white cotton dressing gown, came back and sat on the lounge next to dead and yet still erect Carlos, and watched the World News on TV. Then she went to bed, satisfied by the day. An early check out and an early flight, so she needed some rest. Carlos could wait for the maid in the morning. For the time being, all was right with the world. One Red Package had been delivered.