Sunday, 21 August 2016


He came from war torn Somalia, attended a comprehensive school, and from the word go, had all odds stacked against him. He worked hard, didn't hang about chewing khat, and avoided the stereotypical unsavoury Somali circles. He has brought unparalleled glory to British sport in a way no other athlete has done, and inspired millions.
Of course, his plugging of soya-based cattle-feed mulch, disguised as sausages is pretty unforgiveable, but I can let that slide. Some of my best friends are vegetarians.
Mo Farah should be Sir Mo Farah. It is time.

Sunday, 7 August 2016

The Kiss

Soft as rose petals, they tremble
The sharp intake of breath
The knee-buckling panic and racing pulse
The denial and the hesitation
The reluctant touch
"Don't", screams the brain
"Do it!", whispers the heart
And then: complete surrender.

A desperate grasp, a satisfying gasp
Your body melts and merges
My senses heighten
Eyes shut out the world
I taste you, I smell you
I feel you, I hear your heart beat
And for a few brief seconds
I'm in heaven.

Khyberman | 06 August, 2016