Life is like a poem

Their forms can be elastic,

The inconsistencies often fantastic

But in an attempt to be bombastic

I write poems that are terrible,

And often totally inexplicable

Life is like a poem

I had to open the bruise up

To let the bruise blood,

Come out to show’em

Obscure references – I know’em

But in this medium,

They’re a flood

Of subconscious mud

Because now I want syrup

Life is like a poem

Just like everyone else

I’m obsessed with myself

Sometimes I can’t be arsed

If an idea isn’t immediately parsed

Take this verse for example –

Is its blaggery ample in sample?

Nope, so on to the next one,

Which will be just as random

Life is like a poem

Its constant irregularities

Helps me ponder the possibilities;

That a girl working as a chemist

Can be a wannabee polemicist

Whether a random face in the street

Likes the colour of their bathroom suite?

Maybe the old down and out

Could once twist and shout?

And how would Malcolm Tucker

Exploit Cameron the pig fucker?

Life is like a poem

At times both can be feared,

As a beard can seem weird

Not saying this Corbyn fella is

Leave that shite to showbiz

Hans Gruber’s beard was fun,

And stylish in opposition

Then you remember as a politician,

With parsimonious pouting

Arnie stiffly shouting;

“Terminate terrorism”

Was it an advert for Nihilism,

As our default condition?

Life is like a poem

It may have a truth to espouse –

Just as a small house

Is to a big caravan.

A mud hut in South Sudan

Fits it in a white transit van

Taking as many immigrants as it can

Up north from Cannes,

To truly slum it in Calais

Are you going? Allez! Allez!

They make their way

Only to be arrested in Bromley

Life is like a poem

There’s nothing poetic,

Or remotely prophetic,

About a Miley Cyrus album,

Which goes platinum

It’s harder than a wrecking ball

To listen to 90’s Dancehall

Bad taste causes internal strife

But as rhythm is life,

And life is rhythm,

Genres, I must consider all of them

Life is like a poem

Therefore they can be fucking crap,

Like the coming winter wind’s slap

Enhancing noises seagulls emit,

And blowing their slimy shit,

Onto the city’s skyscrapers

You get spinal gyrations,

As it runs down to its foundations,

Of fag ends and chip papers

Life is like a poem

Both are as unpredictable as the day

I heard a conversation go this way;

There’s that creepy oriental lad

Fiddling about with his ipad

It’s easier to be a tit

When you don’t think about it,

That on your mobile what you said,

Sounds like lines from Bill & Ted

Plus, it’s tantamount to cultural treason

To say ‘everything happens for a reason’

Life is like a poem

This one makes as much sense

As serving beer from a tent,

Or a dancing David Brent

So let’s revert to the past tense;

It was my predilection

For philosophical fiction,

That made more shit art

This poem’s gone as stale as a fart

So, given I can’t do it in style,

Let’s make this poem my last for a while