enlighten me... what’s the point of schooling children in a language when upon leaving school you just censor their vocabulary with politics? how about... mutes (shows off a hollywood expanding square with a eureka expression).

my mother calls me greek, or that other word for greek,
what was it? oh right, now i remember:
tyrant.
this expensive *****, sorry, a russian psychologist in london
insinuated something about someone being a frequent dream-walker
for others and the police looking for a spartan or an athenian, likewise.
me? i was looking for a camel donning a fez from tripoli.
before i was learning the alphabet i was learning roman
bulimia with the finger and i too choked on swiss choc. frivolously
in the nursery room of my education at university:
it’s true what they say - the brightest student the biggest idiot -
but you get to say that’s true at university, if in school that’s
as true as you were gearing up to be a plumber;
second year? i went to no extra lessons in chemistry,
i had one hour of history on friday and i spent the rest of the day
listening to music and then grocery shopping in
cameron toll’s sainsbury’s looking like a witty tourist.
three ******* years up there and i didn’t even see the castle
nor the fringe festival; but i aced my mathematics a-level
because the scots never shortchanged but copper wired -
but that joke came from a glaswegian who said it:
how was copper wire invented? two scots pulling a penny apart;
not the gimp pedantic **** you might hear
in the edinburgh comedy club circuit -
i mean the best joke i heard in scotland was a sikh with a scottish accent
(got the kilt got the hair... bongo bongo mcberulscone).
but concerning my tyranny? not that i do anything spectacular
apart from living in democracy and not voting -
with me the bygone soldiers’ sweats and gunpowder (
that famous antidote to quote god - from gunpowder
you came, to gunpowder you shall return, buckle
in a fat *****’s *****) -
admiring democratic culture and double decker buses,
and saying things like: about as much intelligence
as a mallet with a mullet wig on it
and with as much confidence as a model attired in “believably”
cool shorts giving the comb over look of bewilderment.
i’m not abusive, my tyranny comes from too much love,
and that’s misunderstood, because, for once,
it’s a love from tyranny that’s not picky and scapegoating.
but you know you’re a tyrant when you start
fudge packing feelings into pop songs that get you all whimsically whizzy
to spur on a few tears with mention of love and loneliness;
or like the love affair with ryan adams' *stay with me
due to it being without a studio version.