My Amazon sales ranking.

My Amazon sales ranking.

(‘Ranking’ rhymes with ‘banking’, and we all know what that rhymes with, don’t we boys and girls?)

 

I’ve put one of my collections up for sale on Amazon, having a few

Spare copies on hand; (thank Christ it’s not a whole shed full!) It’s

Listed on this splendid organisation’s database, (I’ve had some real

Bargains on CDs and DVDs, picking up artists like Eric Clapton,

David Bowie and John Lennon for 1p + P&P, and the excellent

‘Witches of Eastwick’ for 93p + P&P.)

 

My sales ranking for ‘Coping With Madness’ matches my status in life’s

Lottery of 4,355,000 to one of winning a prize; I suppose I should be

Disheartened by these incredibly long odds but I’m not; where there’s

Life there’s hope, and I’m still in with a hot chance of winning as far as

I’m concerned; I’ve crashed and burned too many times to worry

Overmuch anymore.

 

I’d only consider myself to be one of life’s real losers if I was a ‘royalist’

( the word ‘royal’ rearranged spells ‘loyar’, which sounds a lot like ‘lawyer’,

Which is probably where the word came from since, originally, ‘royals’ made

All the laws and weren’t just the titular [that word’s got ‘tit’ in it, snarf,

snarf!] heads of state that they are now), or Noel Edmunds, destined to host

That hideous game show called ‘Deal Or No Deal’ in perpetuity; forever

Picking up that telephone to ‘the banker’ whenever it rings, secretly hoping it

Will be ‘The Samaritans’ this time. Or if I sat at home ordering takeaway

Pizza to be delivered to me at 3 or 4 times the cost of what I could buy one

For from the supermarket to heat up for my tea. Or if I dined in expensive

Restaurants out of a sense of snobby chic; my cheeks would be burning with

Shame and self loathing at every mouthful of elitist over-priced  grub;

I’d be asking myself: ‘Could a sewerage worker afford to eat in here?

After all, they’re the ones who see the end results of the food

We’re scoffing and the wine we’re quaffing. We should be doffing

Our caps to them, the ones who keep rats and disease at bay for rates

Of pay that we real wasters wouldn’t get out of bed for, and find derisory.’

(The stench of the sewers gets ingrained into the pores of the skin of this noble breed of unsung heroes, who, like me, are rated as zeros on life’s upwardly mobile scale.)

 

‘Grime fighters’, and everyone who does a mind numbing dead end job

Are the real aristocrats in this sycophantic land; daring to boldly go where

Most of us fear to tread, in dread of ‘catching something’ if we do.

From human poo caked onto overflowing toilet bowls in the holes

That some damned souls choose to live and die in; to all kinds of

Unfathomable detritus that kleptomania sufferers amass in the

Rubbish dumps they call home.

 

Alone with the Muse is my way of beating the blues for a while;

Creating work like this puts a smile on my face and goads me into

Sticking the one-fingered salute to the race that would

Contemptuously pass me by in the street if I was sitting at its feet

With a begging bowl and a sign round my neck that read: ‘4,355,000

Pennies would see me right back on my feet again; one penny

From each of you wouldn’t cause you any pain.’

 

Phil Fletcher-Stokes

(Of course I’d have to be in London to try a stunt like that, living like a sewer rat in cardboard city; but that amount of one penny pieces would be £43,550 in real money, enough to see me ‘comfortably off’ in Thailand as long as I got my UK retirement pension as a backup. Actually, considering that half of the enlightened worlds supposed to be in a state of depression my latest book title: ‘Living in fear of my next nadir. (The lowest point in a depressive, soul cancer cycle) ISBN: 9781471015755, should be flying off the shelves of all good book shops; print on demand.

After my latest snub by Rattle.com in their 2011 Poetry Comp, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m the world’s worst poet, like William Magonnegal? I know the above ‘poem’ is a bit long and rambling but....? Though many of the ‘poems’ I’ve read in their Winter 2011 publication don’t read like poems either; it’s good value though at $18 per annum. You can enter 4 poems in their annual poetry comp’ with a 1st prize of $5,000, and get two 200 page poetry books mailed out to you as well.)

 

Amazon.comdavid bowieeric claptonjohn lennonwilliam magonnegal

◄ 3 Weeks left to live?

the last really hard men. ►

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