When you realise life’s about toast,
With tea, and just making the most,
Of the time that you have,
Through the good times and bad,
And trying to be the ultimate host,
(And not necessarily being grammatically perfect).
What would you do?
If you had to move?
If you had all that you needed,
That you had to just lose?
What would you do?
If they knocked at your house,
And told you to leave,
‘Quiet as a mouse’?
What would you do,
If you woke up one day?
The houses you’d built,
Were all taken away.
The years you spent building,
Were all of them, in vain,
As someone has decided,
You should feel shame.
‘Shame for being you,
How dare you do that?!’
Of course you can choose,
Where you’re born and that’s that.
I don’t often swear,
But fuck all of this,
Theresa May holding hands,
With a point that she missed.
‘It will surely get better,
Before it gets worse’,
There’s the optomist, dead,
In the back of a hearse.
Well it’s time to stand up,
And climb up the tower,
As rumpelstiltskin’s gross wig,
Might look quite sleek, but is secretly sour.
There’s a madman in charge,
And he’s carving our names,
On a long list of gravestones,
Or newly-forged chains.
Let’s steal his pen,
Swap the ink with his blood,
Just to see if he feels,
Each name he drags through the mud.
The people aren’t happy,
And neither is he,
Let’s see if we can make,
One man, not many, flee.
When does that happen,
Not in the movies?
What are the odds of that?
A paper with digits,
And a man who’s called Brigitte,
In the garden, there might be a dead cat.
When does that happen,
Not in the movies?
When it happens in real life.
You take a step out,
But you don’t dare to shout,
Or Brigitte might just be your wife.
When does that happen,
Not in the movies?
Well in approximately the last 24 hours.
I was offered a job,
Was then called a yob,
And developed new magical powers.
Any day could be the one,
You wake up and have some fun,
Any day could be the last one,
So be sure to wear a smile,
If it’s something that’s important to you,
Then make sure you run a mile.
Any day could be a good one,
But it could just as well be bad,
If walk around, wearing a frown,
Then it probably won’t be rad.
You are the reason, I opened my mouth,
You are the reason, I met my best mates,
You are the reason, girls started to see me,
You are the reason, I’ve ever been late.
You hypnotise me, with your flexibility,
You made me carry a guitar, to Spain,
You are the one, I don’t understand,
But help me to understand life all the same.
You are the reason, I sweat and I ache,
You are the reason, my fingers are sore,
You are the reason, I love losing my voice,
You’re the reason, life’s never a bore.
There’s a thing about you, that makes me so happy,
And that’s I know you’ll never, just be mine,
You are shared around the world, wearing your rags and your pearls,
But to share you, music, the feeling’s divine.
My bankle is a pain,
It stops me from walking,
From the places I need to go.
People look at me funny,
As I jangle my money,
Whilst hobbling to and fro.
I went to the doctors,
They took a photo,
Of the bits inside my skin,
I hope that they know,
Just what’s wrong with my bones,
So my bankle can skip the bin.
Every now and then,
You open a book,
And it feels like it’s not for you.
The words pass your eyes,
But it’s quite a surprise,
As they don’t pass your heart when they do,
Your brain reads the words,
But it’s quite absurd,
As they don’t mean a thing when it does,
The must-read book,
Doesn’t give you a second look,
Despite all your friends who made such a fuss.
One day a book, can look right through you,
On others, it stops and it stares.
The book that can see you,
Just sometimes needs time,
And can catch you all unawares.
When you walk into a bookshop,
It’s impossible to know,
Which of these books will make you cry,
And which ones, will help you to grow.
They all have a time and a place for someone,
And they all have good eyes for their reader,
So, if you want to read about politics,
Think twice before you buy a bird feeder!
A few days ago,
I started to sleep,
So I couldn’t put pen to paper.
I couldn’t write before,
And part of my endless snore,
Means I had to do it later.
Sometimes in life,
It’s good to take time,
To not do the things that you must.
Instead use those hours,
To grow super powers,
And you’ll feel all your passion defrost.
Working fifteen hours a day,
Is sure to keep the doctor away,
I just dropped one plate,
But made lots of mates,
So I think that I’ll be just okay.
I met people who made me laugh,
And ran so much I now need a bath,
It’s quite hard to stop,
But to work I shall hop,
In the morning, as there’s no other staff.
Every now and then,
And it isn’t that often,
Every now and then,
The world will just soften,
Today I will write,
My poem for tomorrow,
And from those hours,
Some peace I’ll borrow,
As I’ll work all day,
And I won’t have time,
To think of words,
That really are mine.
Just the words that I’ve learned,
To make my money,
And when I say them out loud,
To me they seem funny.
A script and a character,
Tomorrow, I’ll play,
As myself, and no other,
All the lines I will say,
I aim, each day,
For the perfect recital,
If not for my sanity,
For my paycheck, it’s vital.
Each day I watch and wonder,
I’m happy and smile,
As there’s no other like me,
By a long country mile.
Only you know what you know,
And that will always be true,
So please be yourself,
Life will always feel new.
justbekozlowski 