What do I do when there’s nothing to do? You see, it’s my job. You know I’m not you I bring out my pen and I think shit to write, I’ll never admit who is wrong and whose right.
I’ve worked for, “The Man”, but at least I’m still here. I’ll write and I’ll eat and I’ll sit and drink beer, or maybe a Jack as I scan all I see. May not be for you, but it sure is for me.
Try foods from all walks as I slide from on my bed. Try talking to folk or just wave arms instead. I write in the language I’ve grown to adore. You see I’m too old to learn anything more.
But age is a concept I’ve come to resist. I spend most my evenings with rhyme and get pissed. So, ‘Bothers me not’, if I mumble my words You know all my poems are set free as my birds.
Ex soldier, father, party girl and generally nice guy taking time out to do as he pleases! one day i will make it back to the UK, but i aint in a hurry!
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Dec247h 