The mechanics of this life leave me confused

The ridiculousness of it all leave me bemused

I find it increasingly hard to be enthused


Spliff, line, drink, pill

I carry on and carry on

Way past my fill


Medicated, not moderated

My anaesthetic lust left unsated

My choices left uncontemplated


I’m too fucked up to care any more

1 pint, 2 lines, 3 hits, floor

What illness lies in store?


I’m already ill

It’s why I need this pill

It’s why my beer is spilled


This reality is a fucking joke

Nigel Farage? I need a smoke.

Donald Trump? I’d happily choke


Then I’m right here

With good people close and near

This isn’t Somalia, there’s nothing to fear


Doesn’t make it easier, though

To ride this rapid’s ebb and flow

To take a breath, to take it slow


Maybe this excess is making worse

Maybe I’m chasing the hearse

I’ll cool it off, if I don’t die first


I think that I’m so rock ‘n’ roll

But I’m just a cock who stole

From greater men in this role


The poet

Who knows it


What is my poetic position?

What’s my wry view on the human condition?


Life is Chaos

Life is Random

I wish my dad would have worn a condom


But then you’d not get to see my problems undressed

So I can feel better, and make you depressed.


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