dapxin

What force?
drives,
that maddening buzz,
mental and nervous overdrive,
the fate of a football fan,
games like this ?
::

they came out,
guns blazing,
underrated Sunderland,
drove into the theatre of dreams,
blanket eerie everywhere,
swallowing the dream,
as if enamoured by the golden sun,
in their land - Steve Bruce;

offsprings of a don...

Ben Foster,
with bizarre procession,
sprinkles the mortal juices;
evil ones, if you are the drinking manc;

::
Radiowaves abuzz,
the Greene asking,
Ferguson,
Taking the M-I-C,
and Danny Wellbeck starts,
forgetful,
that its 27years of mixing,
sometimes artistic,
equally startling proportions,
of poison,
for new United inductees,
in endless search,
for the king...

::

The anti-United brigandage,
they lurk,
dreaming and hoping,
partly enjoying the drama,
served with arresting force,
partly supplicating,
cautious still,
that the consipiracists,
capture,
as the Fergie-time-cloud,
ticks/tock/ and its 2-1
in the wait,
the sacred final whistle

::

United losing,
90,000 silence,
the force twists,
The Sunderland,
the dream collapses under the weight,
of impending glory,
still standing tall,
what force ?

::
Visits eternal stupidity,
ordered, Richardson
with spontenaous alacrity,
delivered first class,
a red,
Out!

::
Fluke,
Breakthrough,
Escape,
Its 2-2.
94minutes of Intensity,
It burns, you cant cry,
It rocks, you are mad,
It sucks, you are alone,
man-made warefare,
without blood, It galls,
without goals, It bores...
without nerves, dont play.

::
Yet, Its Heaven,
Unknown when you get there,
Unseen what drives,
Unstoppable, what gives.

Its Beautiful.
Football? aaaaaaaw.
Heaven inside hell...