Are you happy being teased?
would you like some more?
really?
well, yes please!
I have verses and curses,
deep in this mind,
I am squeezing out the juice,
like an orange at breakfast time,
thinking of a new riddle,
while the cats learn to fiddle,
the muse continues to swoon,
as we put a woman on the moon,
did she find low-fat cheese there?
did she have time to adjust her hair?
do we ever care?
when men are twice as vain these days.
what does it take,
to get your attention,
do we need flashing neon lights,
to get a twitter mention,
are we all so porn mad?
cleaning our crucifixes,
and reading 50 shades of grey,
we seem a little illogical,
a little crazy in the head,
it seems everything we lived for,
is all buried and dead,
and humanity,
what is left of it,
has been bled dry,
that is a different story,
I don’t want you to cry,
let us not tease,
and let us stay to the point,
don’t criticize the drugs,
when you are puffing on a joint,
do not slate the whores,
when your daughter is doing worse,
because your thin line of pride,
has been carried off in a hearse,
it is not the world we wanted,
it is not the life we dreamed,
most things don’t go to plan ,
when there is always a tease,
what we write about,
and what we say,
gets bent out of shape,
and sent the wrong way,
the dream we had last night,
was just hidden paranoia,
the die-hard man in us all,
is really mummy’s little girl,
who teases,
to get what she pleases,
but then she sneezes,
as she is full of diseases,
and the merry-go-round,
has hit a speed bump,
and the kids with chocolate ice creams,
have artificial flavours up their nose,
and the real king of bling,
has lost its clothes,
revealing the naked inner self,
a gross hairy scary right of way,
come on please don’t tease,
got to dash off for a manicure,
with my mate Denise,
got to get my Botox,
before they inflate the prices,
I have to sandpaper my creases,
before my mum realizes,
and we all tease,
and we all stare,
and we are too paranoid
about losing our hair,
our bellies are getting fatter,
and our wallets are getting thin,
everything acceptable,
has been thrown in the bin,
it is all about living in a rat race,
and the mice don’t run on time,
so don’t tease me at all,
I don’t want to live in your pantomime.

©Darren Hobson February 2015