He probably reading her poem lost in time to get into her pants old boy……………………..’

Several times I have been wide open gazing at still images of mouths screaming and yelling and mouthfuls upon mouthfuls of mambo jumbling of words entwined in complains and complements. My ears twitch at every inch picking up notions embedded in facial expressions handpicked in disgust.

It happens everywhere any where my selfless self gets its bearings. One time it’s the foul smelling grand papa at the bar telling endless tales of life from his youthful abyss of days when he stepped his best foot forward and the girls came swarming like monthly bleed in  white loin. He speaks with over flowing gusto even the flies in the bar pull chairs not to miss out on this tale written in the stars. Unfortunately those blue armoured featherings pull their sits on the realm of his glass. The buzz is off as they pull their wings in position like marlin Monroe posing for play boy a head of the flood light with blue lips and not red since that too over rated.

His lips part revealing thick flaunts of human fluid as the words fly out like clothes off the second floor of a cheating husband. The saliva shooting sky ward like early New Year’s fireworks into the faces of everyone around. The stories ring in the listener’s ears like a boring lullaby the topics wide and varying like a badly done street mosaic. His voice bellows under his breath pouring scorning on the president’s speech when the president talks about generating 150mw that has been improved to 250mw which sees the old man breath

‘Same thing that dimwit moaned about all those long years time don’t change folks enjoy those lies’

The president then slides down a tirade of falsified lies in his speech embedded in the soul of his speech punctuated with clinical punch lines grained from grand papa one amazingly when he says that

‘that boy came preaching hope for the folks and now all you babies got is small shops you man with your wives, wonder how you folks define change then or it’s my old eyes that don’t see??’

He carefully conjures and deviates the negative energy in the hall with a sickening tale we so used to I can see it with my eyes closed about how he watched the streets mature like an innocent gal caking her baby face with makeup. He reminds us of how the street metamorphosed from one Indian speaking barrage of words that no one understanding to a street bulging from with super markets and even the night angels. He exclaims

‘back in the day with my virginity cemented in and my puberty aging it was odd to see those night moms but now you lads find them easier than finding your pants when you caught red handed down an alley’

Which causes up roar in the hall as everyone suddenly feels like they got something and they can’t hold what is in their goats and the start rocking their boats. One man screams

‘Old rags talking all clean and pure what were you folks doing in those exclusive club houses with them nylon panty red lipped gals, teaching them some manners over exotic wine, for your shit aren’t straight.

As papa tries to answer another dude over his drink retorts

‘He was probably reading her poem lost in time to get her pants old boy……………………..’



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