Mowgli OUT!

Order in the genus!
Order in the genus!
Sitting in the kitchen with my dad and my mum
talking about the size of my bum
I said my chin is fat grey and hairy
and my dad said son to be proud of you it would take fifteen green bags of that to take to the tip
yeah said I and there you go polluting the airwaves with your go so slow into that
We all fell about the kitchen cause we are like that
And the night went on and we all got wasted well high on caffeine and the smell of dog farts
and we talked about cheese and bread after they had got through their questions
well they were in the police, both of them I think smiling where my eyes hide somewhere in my belly
But it’s all good fun for them eight eyes staring like a giant spider from some sci fi nightmare
Sorry. I mean We all care and enjoy each others company and i can’t be bothered to take a pop at Ed Sheeran cause I want to be like that sleeping on a sofa in strangers flat with no responsibilities
but a billion fans. Well, fancy that!
I’m sitting on my bum and it time to go home and I get a lift too.
It’s not bad being me.
Stop doing that!
Stand up and be a man(That was a part of the master plan)
But they’re so intimidating and know so much
I barely believe I am a puff
I mean homosexual
Well I thought I was not anymore
I’ve been fantasizing about women and I have one in mind
Who I’d like to give one
If I could speak to her and reason I’d talk myself out of it
There’s no joy in rationalising love
There’s no chance I never see her
Except walking the streets.
Ed Sheeran should have emailed me about this
then I’d be cool with having a mistress
cause I’m married to art and writing
and that’s what causes all the infighting in our house.
But love. Well fancy that I only need one not a billion
to rely on to bring me home.
Now wasn’t I supposed to hate rap
Now love got me into rap
I’ll be black next…See ya.
ENOUGH of this crap!
It’s like North Korea. There’s only unhappiness.
She is attached I already know that
And me. Well, I smell bad or is that my flat.
Well, the dogs eat better than me.
It’s all higgledy piggeldy.
And my music taste is trashy
and doesn’t help me out by taking me to a higher plane
the beat mocks my heart getting all flustered like i spread it with hot mustard.
There. I am real I do care. and that’s what I will tell her.
If I ever see her again.
It feels like I am cutting it short
I have got into my flow.
Well love makes us all
or tha lack of it.
or false beliefs we get sure of
when we alone
and low
and argue with our shadow.
It’s a world problem
living alone
4 billion people and there’s no cure! Well, fancy that!

 

© Andrew Watkins 2017

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