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soup spider's bum
the other side of
life with spider soup
in
between the covers the covers of a
life less cold more warm can be
considered as the final touch down the
final take off. the final drink. the
final smoke. the final smile. when you
have nothing what so ever to
smile about apart from loss apart
from guilt (shit ! -i can not remember
how drunk i got last night but
i have two pub ashtrays and two
pub beer mats and that is how
drunk) apart from non guilt.
apart
from a love that can not speak
it's
name Mr.Cobwebbywebbykerplunkspidersoupisgoodwhenyourfeelingcoldandalittlewornoutout.
apart
from someone you never even
knew know nor will ever ever.
leaving and
you were intrigued by her foriegn
accent and the way her lips came
out when she spoke like they had
a life of thier own a life of
thier own.
the pout they had
was an incredibility
and you
wondered if she put an add in
the paper "incredible pouting
woman seeks pouting man for incredible
pouting experience".
i could just
dream about pouting like that and
looked up the nearest and cheapest
pouting school (it was over the
other side)
i figured i needed
some practice if we were ever to
pout together, but i knew it would
only do it in my dreams
being
a fat old man with grey hair
slightly balding
and hair
coming out of my nostrils and ears
like
earwigs mating. mating earwigs. (if
this does not make you
laugh out loud i have failed ! )
and
a huge cider gut and frankly bad
shoes bad dress sense or no dress
sense
but i may or may not
be kidding kids, so my face is
a bit battered Bukowski thought that
was a plus !
the important thing
is to realise what you have
before you really do loose it or
find it and then loose it again.
i
find it's better to find it then
loose it then find it again. (and
then loose it).
so just who is
number one that would be telling !
all
i can say is that mr.big gee has
a sense of humour and likes
smiling big time.
big gee has got
my brother now and as the old
priest said that should give big
gee something to be happy about (so
it ain't all doom and gloom).
my
brother was one in five million. shit
!
listening to The The is making
me sentimental !
so what the hell
is wrong with being a little
bit sentimental ?
beauty is within if
you ever get to see some people
with dead eyes you will realise
this.
try to make their eyes
come alive again. it's just they have
forgotten the art of feeling thinking and
will.
theyv'e had too many bad
nights like me like everyone (drinking
thier very self stupid)
when you
can't do a thing you can't even
write out a shopping list.
and
have forgotten how to fight (in the
pacifist sense of the word)
for
your right to still feel and
co-exist.
i think that's what all
this should be about co-existing
after
all , it only lasts a while, a blink
or two.
(ack will the
people smiling look at the people
not smiling).
© 2006 Richard Atkinson
viii

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