Then Someone Said

I thought I’d play
the poetry game:
words in rhythm
(no chance of fame).

Shyness prevailed,
but undeterred,
I told my plight
of love deferred.

Then someone said,
“Your word’s divine.
Shall we partake:
a sixty-nine?”

I told her, “No!”
Where HAD she been?
“I’m only here
for dreams I’ve seen.”

I spoke of mist
on mountains, high,
and told of joy:
my lover’s sigh.

Then someone said,
“Hey man, you’re gay!
I’ll punch your
fcuking ‘ed, one day.”

I said, “Dear Sir!
Spit out: pray tell,
but first, my dear,
go learn to spell.”

I tried to speak
of mankind’s bane:
starvation in
a world of grain.

Then someone said,
“You must be black:
don’t want you here
so sod off back.”

I said, “Maybe:
you could be right,
but then again,
you’re talking shite.”

To raise a laff,
I rhymed in verse
of farty boys
and girlies, worse.

Then someone said,
“Are you my son?
You walked away:
left deeds undone.”

I said, “Not me:
can’t be the one.
My Mam and Dad
are long since gone.”

I spoke again
of love’s dream, lost:
those broken hearts
and signals crossed.

Then someone said,
“Please be my beau.
Come lay with me:
I love you so.”

I said, “No time,
I’ve got to fly.
Don’t wait for me,
just pass on by.”

I shouted out
my point of view;
laid bare my soul
(my testes too).

Then someone said,
“You can’t say that.
I’ll have you banned:
you’re such a prat!”

I said, “Oh no,
not you as well?
Don’t like my words?
Then go to hell!”