She has a kind face and wears glasses with a tortoise-shell coloured rim,
And has a tortoise-shell coloured thing on her lip that could really do with a trim,
Which, when she is thinking, she flicks with the tip of her tongue,
And she says she's only fifty years old, when really she's sixty-one.

In bed she wears a laced corset of patent, red leather,
That concertinas the skin on her chest where it presses her ******* together,
And although she' four times my age, she says it isn't a barrier,
And it's not just because she's very rich that I say yes when she asks me to marry her.

The BBC have a new weather girl,
Her hair is blond and her necklace... pearl,
She warns bearded fishermen about rough seas,
While I stand here with my boxers,
Around my knees.

Some are friendly and like to be kissed,
Some are lonely with cuts on  their wrist,
But some have found,
When a man is around,
That it's surprisingly easy to walk into a fist.

A journo aware, equally at home in Palaces, Halls or the streets
Trained to vision duplicity slants and angles and know the crux
Able to see the story behind the story behind the story and more
In ethics robed proudly while mendacity and shenanigans cry shy
Show me the Dai Lama in a crack den or Bill Gates ******* in Goa

Semi demi illiterates with joined-up thinking or unthinking
Immatures lacking emotional intelligence or gainful statures
In groupthink mired settles on group delusions in vicissitudes
We're programming or flooding seeds of doubts or confusing
As if maladroit fantasies are gospels not simpletons' chicanery

Dismissives sad dolts duly outflanked and outclassed inherently
Ignoramuses crude and coarse in true form lacking introspection
Wear disgrace proudly in persistence and parade idiocy fittingly
Strength in numbers neither nullifying stupidity or indignities
Indulgent cowards and sick gate-keeps of unearned entitlements

Nonentities, rabble rousers shamed vigilantes in emotional dearth
Claiming and luxuriating in the depravities of their deficiencies
I remain what I am and no apologies necessary for august status
Your diminutive deeds merely reflects your statures and intellects
Little minds already condemn you to suicides of real aspirations



CopyrightLaurenceA6thNov2018.allrightsreserved