Posts Tagged ‘fat’

Next Day

Posted: October 12, 2017 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

valium_tablet__i2006e0134_disp

Piggelie on valium and weed was a very happy Piggelie

Oh the schemes he’d weave and the phosphorescent day-glo phantasms that lurked in his brain box

He felt capable of anything as all anxiety had gone

He felt more human and less tired from the wretched night before where no sleep was possible

He felt he could have a loving relationship with a human female well, for an instant

He felt this would not be possible until he lost 30 kg

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marthamary

Piggelies chasing piggelies all over the floor
Piggelies in the hay and piggelies in the straw
First Melanie then Maggie pop corning
Following each other
The eternal chasey game
Lovely piggelies with gentle hearts
Cuddly piggelies that make me happy
Loyal piggelies after the prime
Furry piggelies purring as I stroke their backs
Little fat piggelies playing their piggely games
Dancing across the floor in search of fresh prime

 

Lesbians

Posted: March 31, 2017 in poetry
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lesbians

I don’t know why I spend so much time looking at lesbian porn

It is a sad and lonely pastime

I suspect they’re probably just gay for pay

Is it because I can’t imagine myself in the scenario

Or just because I don’t like looking at cocks

I knew a woman

Like a mirror image

Who liked looking at gay male porn

I’m sure that lesbians are 20 percent cooler than straight people

Just because they don’t need men

And they’ve always seemed really cool to me

Let’s face it men suck ass

I hate myself for being a man

I hate myself for being lonely

I hate myself for being fat

I hate myself for being over forty and not young and funky

I am a sad individual

I am going to die alone

 

 

 

mural-on-indian-red-ground

I’ve always been a fat guy

Don’t know if it’s what I eat or my metabolism or both

Never had much luck with the ladies

Never been a player

Never been alpha

You orbit above me like a distant star

Radiant beauty, forbidden love

Wonderful woman divine angel

I dream of your caress like rose petals

I dream of your breasts like mangos

I dream of your lips like pomegranates

But I understand that I am not attractive to you

So I’ll be happy with the friendzone

velvets

 

When I was in a band

We thought we were going to be famous

And snort cocaine out of groupies’ butt cracks

Get married to some hot models

Or maybe Winona Ryder

And take an amount of drugs that would scare the shit out of Keith Richards

We had a go at doing the drugs

One time we even got paid in Morphine

And pretended to be Lou Reed

Many times I was kicked out of my own gigs

Drunk off my head and acting like a lunatic

So I didn’t have much luck with the women

‘Cos I was too fat and weird

We always did well with the bizarre guys with dreadlocks at the back of the bar

‘Who would love our silly pot songs

And ridiculous attempts to channel Iggy Pop

When the band broke up

‘Cos the other members started breeding

I was sad

lonelyperson
Fuck this shit
I like women
Women don’t like me
It’s a conundrum
A paradox
Who the fuck wants to fuck a middle-aged fat bastard
Who the fuck wants to cuddle up to someone sweaty, bloated and pointless
How much longer will I self-destruct:
For love
For the sake of pain
For madness
For joy
For kicks
For blitzkrieg insanity
For lack of a good woman

I like women
Women don’t like me
I am:
Too fat
Too lonely
Too desperate
Too maudlin
Too pathetic
Too weird
Too stoned
Too drunk
So I have another beer
And I have another cigarette
I have another cone
Occasionally I have a shot
And exude infinite soul-longing for silent death-bliss
Which will come on like a shot of smack and euthanize my emptiness
And set me free to roam the realm of Spirits
With angel’s wings

loneliness2

Understand the solitary man
Burnt out tree lost in a forest of loneliness
Pebble under an infinite mountain
He puts on a mellow album
Smokes a couple of cones
Lights mandarin flavoured incense
Stares at the dirty plates and empty drink bottles surrounding him and recoils at how dirty the coffee table is
Considers doing the washing
Considers moving the dirty plates to the kitchen
Doesn’t move

His mental soliloquy:
“Oh my filth, my precious filth
No-one can tell me to clean up
At least I know where things are
Oh God ,I’m getting fat
My back aches when I walk
I’m going to die alone in a rented room
From a heart attack or lung cancer
Or I’ll get diabetes and someone will chop off my leg”

Paranoia, paranoia most foul in lonely rooms all over the world where excess men who nobody wants live out their pathetic lives
His personal space is small
No-one wants to invade it
His dreams are always full of women
But his life is empty of them
Too depressed to jerk off but soaked in longing
Waiting for death
Understand the solitary man

chicken

 

Darkest meat
Corpuscles
Rending flesh from bone
Blood simple expression
Like branches of branches of a tree, intricate
A witness
A wonder
Glazed with self-satisfaction
Ready to burst
Bent into suburban shapes
Curlicues in curlicues enhance fractal Zen mind expansion
Spiralling tornadoes of angst and ecstasy
How long
Till strange fat men in Hawaiian shirts are attractive to women
Till starlight galaxies spin immaculate through my neurons
Till death will be greeted with relief
Moments
Waterfall of time rolls down
Water transformed to blood
Corpuscles
Silence

Curry

Posted: April 18, 2015 in poetry
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Indian_Curry_Chicken

Full belly of curry
Bloated in my comfy chair
Swollen like a tic full of blood
My internal monologue is death by myriad wounds
I eat too much
I don’t exercise enough
Women don’t like fat men
I suck dead dogs’ dicks
I killed Kurt Cobain
Will I die alone in this rented room like a cockroach
Will I fester and freak till I’m bat-shit crazy and end up back in hospital
Will I wander through life like a lost stranger down endless suburban bitumen
Carving away my personality with psychic razors
Never knowing connection to the rest of humanity
Forever burnt out and busted like a dead lightbulb
Staring up the asshole of death
Hello world I’m here
I’d like to get to know you
I’m not sure if you’ll like me
But I’m here
Stoned and impeccable
Close to beyond hope
Growing my toenails
Sharpening my fangs
And inhaling paint

Get off my case!

Posted: February 27, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

‘Hey you fat piece of shit, I’m going to beat your head in!’
If I could pull my head between my shoulders I would;
My heart winds up its tempo.
There is no-one else around and the creature in the red shirt is behind me.
‘Hey fat shit did you get a stick from Sam’s place?
Hey fat boy I’m talking to you!
Are you trying to follow me?’
‘Leave me alone!’ I shout.
I run into the bottle-shop with my breath a stuttering torrent,
I walk to the end of the aisle and pick out a six-pack of Little Creatures pale ale,
Then I approach the counter and say to the girl behind it:
‘That guy in the red shirt, he’s threatening and insulting me. I’m scared.’
Outside he glowers, looking thin, hungry and crazy.
I suspect he’s a speed freak – he has that hollowed out look.
An old guy behind the counter asks:
‘What’s going on here?’
I repeat myself.
Then the old guy leaves to talk to the guy in the red shirt, who is edging ever closer to the bottle-shop.
The girl behind the counter asks me why he is hassling me.
‘Because I’m fat,’ I say.
The saddest truth of all- ponderous and obvious.
I leave through the adjoining supermarket, crossing aisles to get distance behind me.
I exit the store and cross over the car-park, catching a freeze-framed picture of the old guy and my bully still talking.
I cross over the road and make the train station,
Free at last!
Thank-you God of the Angel Armies!
The train arrives and try to forget it all but I cannot.
It will not, will not fade into the mush of yesterday: bad news written in permanent marker.
Turn the other cheek, but when in doubt run away!