What a queer boy you are!
All prissy-missy and floating about
As if the world spread out before you
(With us as the rejected roses of your red carpet)
Owed you anything in the first place.
Just who do you think you are?

Oh, but how pretty you were!
Had only your overgrown turkey *******
Been crafted from the offset to be savoured
By the sweet lips of a woman
As nature and state intend them,
Yes – why, yes, our understanding of you would have been initially inked.

Pray tell – what was the charm you had with the girls?
Despite our best, you overshadowed us in a pitiful dust.
Our roses you turned to a morphine ash,
Morphing our sweet serenades to suffocating sulphur.
Know you not how you thwarted our plans so naturally?
Without even the slightest objective of mocking?

Okay, so I get it – females favour gay guys for company.
Good news for you – ***** for us.
Still, I think no less of you.
You inspire me,
Immaculately-skinned one.

I think you and Freddie will have a whale of a time.
You will meet him soon enough.

I nearly kissed a boy – you know that?
His name was Simphiwe – he was black.
That would have killed the Old Bull.

Black skies and desolate fields
Are all that lie around me,
Now that they’re all indoors,
Waiting,
Hoping,
Praying for some hot chocolate.

Idle, I invite in
Never known needs
To challenge and conquer.
Depart empty-handed I shall not –
Today, this wall is mine!

Sudden rainfall saps reassurance,
Deifying doubt.
No – no. I pace wildly,
Ascend aesthetically, then
Slip on pasty mud, tilt and plummet.

Hamstring and right cheek now throbbing,
The heart of liberty now takes its first beat.
Is that all you got, sordid world?
Your sanctions of pain won’t squash my will – here I stand.
Bring it on – you can’t stop me.

Got all my stuff –
Bag, books, packed lunch all on hand.
Weather forecast foretells a day all too rough –
A menacing match for the coarsest Sahara sand.

The day would be over soon
After Dot was done scolding and whining in her mean old frock.
I daydreamed looking at the sick white moon
When my thoughts were interrupted by a knock.

“It’s too hot,” the hideously-toothed creature declared.
“Children, pack up your books and go to the pool.”
“Yay!” all screamed but, just as I had feared,
I never packed my costume – **** fool.

Boys and girls now frolicking in the water,
I stood alone afresh on life’s sidelines.
***** these nuns and these imbeciles’ laughter!
It is not their miserable rules that my life defines.

Fully-uniformed, I
Ran,
Leaped,
Splashed … aah, the joy!

Kids laughed, nuns spanked.
In the end, it is only my courage that I thanked.

Locked up in a sealed, squat jar
Leveling out the fragile playing fields
Which separate our stupid lives from your pre-natal bliss,
I gazed upon you in constant amazement,
As your watered and eager soul shook against the thick glass.

In the comfort of a forgotten cupboard,
You peer out daily through your half-shut pink eyes,
Watching the cogs of our legs grind up and down stairwells,
Oiled by fear and glistening in blind faith.
And, still, you make the glass rock and tilt with your Buddha laughs!

Quite a charming crew, you had there!
Magical bones and limp lizards
(Amongst other players) gathered together for science’s sake,
Only to be glimpsed at briefly in-between breaks.
Kids came and went, things were built - you never changed.

It was better that you never tasted life’s lost lustre.
Had you past through the wet, wobbly womb,
Only a few options would have awaited you –
Pet, chop suey or a pitiful pawn on Squealer’s chessboard.
You’re too sweet for all of that – stay bottled up.

Waiting for the Rock to pick us up,
We took turns tossing the glowing green ball
Way up down, spin spin, hiccough
Whilst the others stood outside the hall.

A wisp of a bat whirled above,
Afloat with hunger, or busy at a late afternoon game.
The Judge took his turn to toss. Nice one, bruv.
Square in the bat’s mouth – nice aim!

Down the glistening ball plummeted,
After ******* failed to keep his jaws locked.
Our ball was now diabolically-pitted;
Indeed, on hell’s door it had now knocked.

Where are you going to, *******?
Back to hell to have tea with Helen of Troy?
After you have finished deeming damnation as divine,
Be sure to deal with these enemies of mine.

So, what do you say?
Think it over – but only for a day.

Multi-coloured blocks are sprawled
Neatly across the floor where harvested kids play
With fidgety hands uncalled
To do much more than learn and pray.

Mmm…so good… peanut butter and jam
Beats cheeses and ham.
A little spring of Oros the throat does wet –
Perhaps a little too much – must go the toilet.

Enter, untuck, unzip.
Out shoots gold foam drip drip drip.
Paul Simon laughs at my harmless pecker,
His mate bursting into laughter like a lit *******.

Not knowing a thing of Cain and Abel,
I taught Paul the art of anger.
Didn’t you know? – humanity is but a fable!
Oh, come on now, don’t be a stranger.

The grass baked liked wheat in the smoldering afternoon.
Tea and eats would be served soon.
In the meantime, to get but a mild breeze,
It is the Sun God we must appease.

A small sacrifice is in order.
Some measly living (or barely living) thing would please her.
Ah! – a cricket.
Catch him – he’s our breeze ticket.

Out came the magnifying glass –
Beyond death’s depriving door quickly shall he pass.
Eagerly, we explored his roasted guts
And even contemplated enjoying him with some nuts.

No. This crisped corpse we shall not eat,
For he is most precious to the Maker of Heat.
Your Highness, accept our humble offering –
Right now, it’s all we can bring.

Guys, just take a feel of that breeze!
Sorry, cricket – your life had to cease.