Is it so terribly rude of me
To say I couldn’t care
About this royal wedding *******
That’s hanging in the air

The fancy hats and celebrity suits
That flock round the regal brood
Spouting posh words and fancy nothingness
Really put me off my food

Not content with stealing the limelight
Theyve even wangled the sun
Scarcely a drink seen in the palace grounds though
Do they really call that fun

Here’s to Harry and Miss Markel
But sadly I won’t be sharing your day
Cause I’m a gritty moaning northerner
With far to much to say

Oh there is bit of excitement
Elton johns just dropped a *** of money
And a pigeon has flew down and nicked it
Now that is really quite funny

Into the torn trilby upright stands a feather
Hiding hair enthused with dirt and a touch of woodland heather
Blood shot eyes look tired and heavily sunken
From the bottled spirits that the mouth has frequently drunken
A Scarf hangs down which was once so beautifully green
Hard to envisage it when it was vibrant, pristine and so clean
Rivers of blood dribble down a grey woolly chin
From tins and cans creeping out of an overflowing bin
Hidden clothes under mould spots and wretched smells
A heart that’s barely alive miraculously somehow still dwells
On cardboard is scribbled a beg for food and change
Well worded and well meant but with a hint of subtle derange
Humanity shuffles past like ghosts lost in time
Rejecting and ignoring his pleas for help, attention and social climb
Stuck in a painful slumber and thinking what could have been
A ***** is now a figurine derived from a portrait made from the obscene

So pure yet immature
Wrong time when premature
Struggling for oxygen that isn’t there
For the eye it’s an emotional affair
Falls down stumbles round
Lifts up and hits the ground
Wheezes little breezes
Conjures up little sneezes
Throws out a lame gentle moan
Which evolves ever slowly into a groan
Nestled in bed made of print
Underneath the brambles and the flint
Cold wraps around this precious soul
Missing warmth like fires burnt with coal
Hands raise up the abandoned vessel
Into a thick blanket the orphan can know nestle

Do I still just say hello
To this world that I should know
Can I act so very sincere
When my mind isn’t that clear
Will I drink from the fateful cup
And see my thoughts trip me up
Or is a cloud going to grey
Which will soak me to decay
Before a sun shines in my vision
Protecting me from derision
Guiding my noctural mind
From a life that can be unkind
Bringing me back onto this earth
For the purposes of my rebirth

A crab made from a crisp bag
Saunters precariously across the kerb
The face in the tree branches
Catches my eye
The waving mist from car fumes
Makes the world seem hazy
Reflections on the water
Mirror my mood
Car lights like ants
Flow along the sprawling roads
Ice covers trees like greyness of the aged
Cold and numb to touch
A sun ray shines like the light bulb
That illuminates my study
Darkness covers the sky
Like the secrets behind the cupboard door

A tainted world is lived in
Paper masks hide idle lies
Glorious sunshine sifts through clouds
Blinding the weary eyes
Optimism hovers on cold days
Away from naked untouched truth
Elusive intrusive shadowy feelings
Seem so buried yet so aloof
Shout with your loudest voices
Laugh at humour on the air
A fool will make his own sorrows
Enigmatic is the man without care