You obviously don’t know me; nor have you the
foggiest idea what I think or how I live my life.
And why should you? For not only are we
total strangers to each other but were I
to plausibly put that reality aside, as
I’m perfectly entitled to do, what
we either of us get up to in our
everyday life: generally or privately, has
absolutely nothing whatsoever to do
with each other. So why can’t you
fully accept that, stop being the
total prat you evidently are
and not only declare that
you will, but also from my
outlook expectantly fulfil that given pledge
by you to me and afterwards simply and
completely leave me alone, as I most
earnestly want you to, to live this
life which fortunately I’ve been
given, and what’s more is not
yours to either unilaterally
or in any other manner
influence but is quite
© Stanley V. Collymore
13 October 2015.
This poem is dedicated to Jeremy Corbyn and all those who in their everyday and private life unwarrantedly find themselves in the same invidious situation of being moronically stalked.
Whether it’s a solitary, demonstrably arrogant and delusional with it, or a pathetically sociopathic, patently lacking in self-worth, control freak nutter or even a psychopathic loner or loser acting solely on their own; or equally a supposedly mainstream corporate entity behaving in the same puerile and attention grabbing way, the stalker: whether an opportunist or otherwise a hardcore recidivist, is a nefarious phenomenon prevalent unfortunately in our contemporary society. And like the deeply pernicious Evil that all cancers – which stalking is - malevolently represent, can and invariably do set out to ensnare, pervade and corrupt even the most decent, principled and worthy of human lives.
If in any doubt of this please check out the Daily Telegraph rag and likewise ask Sky News to furnish you with a copy of its Press Preview recording of a few nights ago – the exact date slips my mind right now as I write but then my functioning brain easily dismisses such banal crap and doesn’t usually bother to register it – featuring the transparently brain-dead, embarrassingly ultra-royalist - in 2015 I ask you - sycophant and sluttish, pseudo-white (?) trash cunt Roya Nikkhah, specifically in relation to her very own and her rag’s ongoing infantile, utterly demented and fabricated comments about the massively elected – and that even after the election is done and dusted still gets up the noses of these purblind assholes – Labour Party leader, Jeremy Corbyn.
Now if this isn’t stalking then we undoubtedly need a new etymological definition of that word. Not that Roya Nikkhah, her correspondingly completely dim-witted chums at the Daily Telegraph rag or their fellow travellers come to that are mentally equipped with the capability or basic intellect to discern far less acknowledge what etymological means or furthermore correctly utilize words as they’re properly meant to be.