I’m not rich: I’m a poet.
I’m not famous: I’m a poet.
Haven’t you heard? I can take a word
And find another that sounds just like it
(except for right there maybe),
But baby I’m cool
Don’t fool yourself
And stop drooling at the size of my words
Oh yes! My words are small at the start
But I know the art of benevolent wordplay
And dare say display sizeable lexicality
And I’m a cunning linguist.
Just when you think I’m saying one thing,
I’ll tell you that I won things
At the fair as I whacked the mole
(if you know what I mean)
There. I did it again.
I’m not feared: I’m a poet.
I’m hardly revered: I’m a poet.
But not a know-it-all
with the where-with-all
to build a big life and not blow it.
I build rhythm and rhyme
And might sound quite sublime
But all my wordly possessions
don’t amount to much
Which is fine, for I’m a poet.
I’m a poet. How do I know it?
Well you might see delinquent youth
but I will see the naked truth
Where you hear thunder in the sky
I hear a tortured you and I
Two old people holding hands?
Enthalpic powered wedding bands
I feel the sound of broken hearts
Where beauty lies in two-bit tarts
And see in nature desperate pleas
For us to drop down on our knees and pray.
When you taste sour
I find you sweet
I taste my food and you just eat
And eating away at me is the darkness on this earth
The constant darkness
that no-one seems to give a shit about
and they roll in that shit and come over
and put their shit on me
and stink up my life
and they leave their shit behind when they go.
I’m a poet
because plants are alive
And diving stock markets make no difference to them
Or to the sun or to the stars
or to the way I feel when I see you in deep thought
when I feel I ought to help you
but chose instead to hide and watch because you’re mesmerizing.
I’m a poet
Because love doesn’t die, it just changes,
Because emotions have endless ranges
And the danger of loving is losing
And a poet lives the bruising;
Loves the bruising
I am not unscarred: I’m a poet.