Left Paddington grinning

[serge gurkski]

for Stalker


It's not that she's not well-versed in
travelling to the capitals of our overrated globe
more or less blue, doing them
and then undoing them, leaving them
in the most devastated state.
Right now she's ruining Moscow
and Putin is not amused and that's not because of her
pussy being a riot.

It's not that I ever would dare
to molest her sexually as much
as I don't care (yet),
but rather it's so that
I am willing to change trains
at Paddington. And why not
doing the countryside
for however long
our banging takes
when I'm already there?

I'm getting drunk on her
and in that state indeed
it does simply not matter
anymore how this came about.
Par ordre du mufti, she is
advised to enjoy and give joy
in return and we tit for tat
did this and that for a
moment of bliss,
the god of love showered upon us.
Later, after she exhausted me
she helps me getting back on the train
to Paddington so that I
just in time make it
to the plane flying me back to Munich
still asleep
unkempt and unperfumed
still devoid of its usually sexy
make-up.

Can a town be a whore and a whore be a town?
Because if so, I'll happily fall down to finally drown.

[billy]

a woman called stalker mmmmm. some good lines in it, i liked by order of the mufti

[serge gurkski]

thank you for reading, Billy.
I am not too happy about the grinning, but I did (while writing this) and possibly or even probably inappropriately? ;-)

cheers serge

[arbil_poieo]

I like "the god of love showered upon us/later, after she exhausted me"---it paints me a pretty picture

"it's not that I ever would dare/to molest her sexually as much/as I don't care (yet)"---uh huh suure.

This was funny and cute, it made me grin.

[Stalker]

I feel compelled to toss something from my own pen in response to this, straight into the box, haha, here goes:

Serge Tracks Rhetoric

Not exactly gloomy
the victorian framed paddington
enjoys some natural lighting via the
thoroughly-modern glass roof.
Of course being in London that light sparcely
illuminates.

Serge, on the other hand,
illuminates himself with
immeasureable clarity,
almost always appearing
in his own lines
and now casting his
grinning shadow directly into mine.

He seeks to uncover his stalker
via Paddington
I wait, clock-watch, as he crosses,
words on a page
arrive and then depart from
platform 7
to be fetched as a body
at 15:51.

The repertoire
I have endowed
you with
may be impossible to match
and what extras did you bring
in that over-night bag?

[serge gurkski]

Where else to go but for rhetorics, if all we'll ever have is words?
Words that paint (out) our fantasies, but nothing else. You don't agree?
The extras in my bag would not have pleased you, please believe.
But if in doubt still, come and prove by flesh your point or disprove mine!
Or similarly.

---

ty for grinning, arbil! ;-)