I'm pissed off at pollen. I've been spluttering, scratching and sniffling about the place for the past week. Ive been a real slovenly, mucusy mess. All cos of pollen.
When humans have sex we don't affect other species with a terribly inconvenient annoyance. No. We keep it "in-house" - (STDs).
It reached a peak today. I was on a 208 to Lewisham and rubbing my eyes and sneezing and getting well pissed off. I reached Lewisham and got off at McDonalds (why has it changed from it's joyous red to this mucky greeny black mess?) and stepped into this wall of heated pollen. It slammed into me. This invisible fist fucking clumped me about the nostrils. I started sneezing uncontrollably. Snot was everywhere. I had no tissue. I had no escape. I tried to wipe and rub it off, styling it out, but it was no good. I was covered in snot. This large black lady gave me one of the most disgusted looking faces I have ever received - I was a mess: eyes red and streaming and hands covered in snot. I tried to slip off into Lewisham obscurity. Crossing the road in front of a red ford escort. (should have slunk off into the Lewisham Model Market - more obscure) passing the catholic church I thought to myself: God why did you create pollen, you bastard.
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These two poems are wicked.
First TS Eliot - "The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock"
Next - Charles Bukowski - "Dinosauria, we"
These guys make words sound like dancing daggers. Both have a dreamlike quality, which lurches from nightmares to contention. I would love to have a few beers with both. Although I think Bukowski would be more of a beer man then Eliot. But Eliot would be a good laugh all the same, I'm sure.
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4 comments:
I feel you hayfever pain.
like the poetry it helps...
lol.
well sex can smell like sex.
which isnt very nice in closed places.
your poem sounds like a hidden message of dirty sex. maybe thats just me but 'fist fucking'?
anyway it was cool. i like the second video. quite cool but couldnt work out the first as it was muffled.
I've just been pissing myself reading this at work. Every time I thought I'd got it under control, you used the word snot again. What a bastard I am - perhaps I'm up there with God, finding amusement in your discomfort.
Thanks for cheering me up on my first day back at work though mate.
Well, you brought it upon yourself by going to Lewisham
It was like you was asking for all the snot and old lady beef.
I hope you learnt your lesson.
Lewisham is good for nothing
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