Thursday, 8 October 2015

CrossTalk: Blaming Russia

The bloody nerve of a serial and narcissistic slut!

By Stanley Collymore

Don’t tell me, you’ve lost that will to love because your
boyfriend has dumped you! Well what on earth did
you expect from him on his realizing that you
were simply fair game for any guy who was
financially loaded, that routinely paid you
false compliments and, what’s more,
cheerfully lied through his teeth in
the process to get what he clearly
wanted from you – sex and
nothing more; and all because he instinctively knew
and additionally got to understand that effortlessly
you’re quite an unproblematic sucker for this
kind of purblind stuff and thus an easy lay
when it comes to hearing whatever any
randy Lothario has to say in order to
have his licentious way with you;
and that furthermore in terms
of respect either for your boy
friend let alone yourself
you clearly had none.

Yet now, utterly barefacedly, somewhat
extraordinarily and ironically too you
want others, and with you finding
yourself in this quandary which
you’ve intentionally created
for yourself, to completely sympathize with you
for your having wantonly and stupidly thrown
away in the most cavalier and irresponsible
of fashion that any woman possibly can,
the intense love of a truly decent and,
until your extremely inexcusable
behaviour, the committed love
of an honourable, decidedly
faithful and, undeniably,
a most adoring man!

© Stanley V. Collymore
8 October 2015.

Author’s Remarks:
As those of you who routinely read my work, and especially my poems, will know I write about things that I feel passionately about or which in some way or other has inspired me to comment on them; and this poem is no exception. The genesis of it came about when on a bus journey across West Sussex to the seaside resort town of Worthing just recently, and one that I frequently make when I’m in the UK, I overheard a conversation that prompted this poem. I wasn’t eavesdropping; that isn’t, never was or will it ever be a forte of mine as I have a life of my own and far more important things to do with it than to consciously tune in to the often idiotic conversations of most Brits nowadays. But sitting on this particular bus and at the very front of it I couldn’t, although I tried my level bus to shut it out, help but overhear this conversation coming from two young women who were quite literally, in marked contrast to where I was ensconced at the very front of the bus and directly behind the driver – you can’t get more forward as a passenger on a transport bus than that unless you chose, I say sarcastically, to sit on the lap of the driver.

Anyway, the prattle from these two women, who I know as long term but not speaking to acquaintances as they neither of them apparently feel that they have any obligation to work and regularly take trips on this same bus to Worthing to occupy their time, was most intrusive – can’t Brits of all kinds, and I say this pleadingly talk quietly, and why the hell do they think that everyone is either interested in or wants to hear their invariably banal conversations? Any road these two were no exception to this intrusive and particularly annoying practice that seemingly is nationwide across Britain nowadays. So I had no choice but to grin and bear their infernal chatter, even forced to dispense with my usual scribbling of stories and poems that I generally do when I’m on this one hour and 45 minutes duration drive to Worthing.

The essence of this loud conversation that I noticed others on the bus were equally pissed off with is contained in the poem I’ve written; but quite incredibly by these two females what this utterly praiseworthy man did in summarily and permanently dumping this trollop when he realized what she was up to is something to be vilified; and is clearly at fault for having the temerity and audacity to do so while narcissistically this slut evidently feels she is and ought to be justly regarded as the aggrieved one. But why am I not surprised by this when from the very top of British society to the lowest level of it it’s always somebody else’s fault and never that of the true perpetrator? Ruminate on that one philosophically and morally if the lot of you out there can! And that includes you David Cameron, Theresa May and Co.

Wednesday, 7 October 2015

Barbados National Anthem - "In Plenty and In Time of Need"

Deutsche Nationalhymne - Festakt zum Tag der Deutschen Einheit 2011

The perfidious flight of the covert dyke Queen Bee!

By Stanley Collymore

I woke up in the middle of the night sweating most profusely,
what a dreadful fright, and earnestly sorely wondering what
on earth was going on. For I’d earlier had this quite awful
dream that Jeremy Corbyn was arrested on the specific
orders of the British Home Secretary Theresa May.
whose ministerial portfolio covers these sorts of
mundane things, for being an illegal migrant
living in Britain and who furthermore had
had the sheer audacity and the galling temerity to
brazenly stand for and even get himself elected
33 years in succession as a most popular MP
and, in addition, as we’ve recently seen as
undeniably the massively chosen leader
throughout the Labour movement;
disregard the sick, sore losers
and Labtory MPs, infecting
the House of Commons
with their presence,
in the real British
Labour Party.

His arrest immediately and naturally carried out through
the courtesy of that ever obliging, criminal and quite
sadistically murderous entity known as G4S; that,
to put it mildly, are seasoned past masters in
felonious activities like this. However, as
normality returned and with it my usual
composure I gradually realized it was
simply an upsetting dream that had turned into
an alarming nightmare and that probably had
earlier and somewhat unconsciously been
triggered, I dear say, by the distinctly
racist, xenophobic migration speech
tied to the mindless self-serving
vituperation by Theresa May:
the childless: small blessings
shouldn’t ever be ignored,
discernibly testosterone-
driven and abhorrent
third gender aspirant
for the top job as leader
of the Tory – forgive
me and I do beg
your pardon –
Nasty Party!

© Stanley V. Collymore
7 October 2015.

Author’s Remarks:
Thank God we have the Conservative Party in Britain and pillocks like Theresa May in it to keep our minds intelligently and perceptively focused. For without them, obviously sane and intelligent people, of whom there are still some in the United Kingdom, could quite despairingly in this overtly racist, xenophobic, delusional, sickening and perverted society called Britain rather inadvertently but understandably so given the circumstances they’re daily confronted with, actually think they’re going mad like the rest of the British population; which manifestly they are not!

Personally, I’m very partial to ethnic cleansing in Britain provided of course we get rid of the MP scum in all parties, the paedophile practitioners and their Tory, Lib-Dem and Labtory protectors in conjunction with most of the powers that be and the British Establishment for whom such pernicious and sickening activities are a rite of passage; while leaving decent human beings, and that includes immigrants, to carry on developing Britain as it should be; and against all the odds hopefully transform it into a caring, equitable and a truly egalitarian country that commands the respect of the rest of the world, and doesn’t have to gratuitously and unwarrantedly bomb the shits out of them to make our sanctimonious and hypocritical voices heard.

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

The practical response to improper and unwelcome sexual behaviour

By Stanley Collymore

You keep touching me like no other man has ever touched
me before and young and sexually inexperienced though
I might be I’m even so well aware that what you’re
doing is really all about you and most definitely
not about me; and if you don’t stop doing it
immediately I shall be obliged to call the
police; but then maybe not, for their bosses will
only cover it up: paedophilia protectors and
even practitioners themselves you see.
So instead I shall self-defensively,
as is my right, kick you with
all my might where it truly
hurts - smack bang in
the middle of your
very soon to be
very swollen
and painful

© Stanley V. Collymore
6 October 2015.

Author’s Comments:
A young lady I met while travelling on a bus in the Southeast of England and who had sat next to and was on her way home from the college she attended noticing how engrossed I was at the time with my notepad which I always carry with me and the writing I was quite earnestly undertaking, obviously out of general curiosity first politely apologized and then asked me what I was doing; was I a teacher, a writer or a journalist? I smiled and told her I was all three of these. A conversation ensued and I explained that I was writing a poem. As it happened I had with me a few copies of previously written poems that I’d collected from the printing firm where I professionally have my personalized poems and posters done. As she was interested in seeing them I showed them to her.

She evidently liked them and asked what subject I taught. I told her and she said English was also her favourite subject, that she wanted to go on to university and hoped to major in it. Understandably I congratulated her on her sensible choice. She laughed and as our journey continued we built up a natural rapport with each other. Twenty minutes later we said a warm goodbye to each other as she prepared to get off at her stop while I continued on my journey home.

As fate would have it we ran into each other again but this time she was with a group of her friends who she introduced me to. As our encounter took place in the town centre this time we all of us mutually agreed to go to a coffee shop and socialize there. Quite an interesting and entertaining occasion it turned out to be too, leaving us all in stitches of laughter. And it was from one of the young ladies present and who cheerfully and voluntarily relayed her story that this poem I’ve now written was given birth to. She also said that she didn’t mind in the least my turning it into a poem and the others likewise agreed.

This group consist of a superb bunch of lads and lasses who’ve clearly got their heads screwed on the right way; and with me, at their unanimous request conjoined with their parents’ specific permission, I’m now acting as their informal “teacher”, assessing their academic work and making constructive suggestions wherever appropriate both face to face when we meet up but more often than not online when I’m out of the country. Politically they’re also energized but I shan’t say for which party or political leader as this is not a commercial (smile). Suffice to say though their choices in both instances are spot on with mine!

Monday, 5 October 2015

Brilliant motherhood and self-effacing femininity conjoined as one!

By Stanley Collymore

You are the visible characterization and uplifting
embodiment of natural motherhood, intuitively
conducting yourself as every loving, caring
and scrupulously trustworthy, biological
mother or parent of whatever category
should; an entirely enthralling and
a most pleasurable observation,
in every imaginable way, to
comfortingly survey in a
vivacious atmosphere
of unstinting and
quite justified

Someone that in this generally feckless, highly
irresponsible and largely dissolute society
of mendacious mediocrity and purblind
stupidity commonplace unfortunately
as well as utterly demeaning and
which nowadays, delusionally
and asininely, are ludicrously are and
seriously passed off as desirable traits of
responsible parenthood and grown up
maturity; yet conscionably and in
every other conceivable way,
and noticeably eschewed
by you, patently and
ongoingly clearly
and specifically
lack any true
of cogent

But you who’re obviously untouched by all of this
have markedly in your case - so conspicuously
and refreshingly different, I must truthfully
say, that one would either have to be blind
or else completely doltish not to notice,
fully appreciate and unconditionally
venerate this methodology of yours in
every practicable way; that’s splendidly
unpretentious, manifestly scrupulous
and agreeable; positively appealing
undeniably inspirational and has
materialized as a decidedly
friendly, captivatingly
feminine and, from a
personal perspective, as
a veritably gratifying
sight to see and

© Stanley V. Collymore
5 October 2015.

Author’s Remarks:
The appreciation of altruistic motives if not entirely dead in Britain as a whole has most certainly been in a very regressive coma for several years now and markedly exhibits all the transparent signs of not only being terminally but also unrecoverably ill. Most contemporary Brits of all ages and each gender haven’t the foggiest notion of what altruism is or what when quite authentically dispensed that gesture is all about, and is nothing more, in my honest opinion, than casting pearls before swine. It’s the same with compliments genuinely given.

Thankfully it’s not a situation that I come across in Germany or anywhere else, come to that, globally, and categorically seems to be specifically a British curse. So as a rule of thumb the only Brits that I routinely pay compliments to or set about doing anything altruistically for are family members, close and trusted friends and on the very rare occasions those whom I’ve previously not met nor known but who evidently and rather refreshingly transcend the pernicious banality and rampant stupidity that is so replete within my country.

This poem was inspired by one such unique person who is British but is as far removed from her peers as chalk is from cheese.