Make Your Mind Up

You always beg me

Not to go

Whenever

I try to leave

But if I stay

You’re quiet anyway

Then I’m the one

Feeling peeved

Just Kids

I really don’t mean to be harsh

Or in any way uncouth

But there’s nothing

More fucking annoying

Than the innocence of youth

The Clown

I’d rather just sit

In the corner and brood

As for your ‘humour’

I’m not in the mood


No Laughing Matter

I swear to you right now

On all that is good and holy

Your jokes rarely do anything

But kill me fucking slowly

(Originally Posted 12.01.2021)

“I’m OK By Myself”

Someone asked me

Today

Why I prefer to travel

Alone

Because it’s easier

I said

Than listening to other people

Moan


Better Off Dead

Sometimes
I
wonder,

Is
this all
there is?

Just
boredom,
emptiness

And your
endless
bullshit?

I couldn’t
think of
anything
nicer,

Than to be
somewhere
else
instead.

Far from
all the
anxiety
and pain,

And your
words
plaguing
my head

(Originally Posted 07.12.2019)

It’s Not Just Me Either

There’s one in every office

Whose presence elicits a grimace

And in mine it’s you

Who never ceases to

Push me to my limits


The Irritant

It actually
hurts to
listen to you

Let alone
look you
in the eye

Please just
leave me
alone

For I have
bigger fish
to fry

(Originally Posted 26.09.2019)

Until Next Year…

As the calendar page turns once more

We are granted our reprieve

Thank you so much Mariah

Now you can fucking leave

Take that whiny choirboy with you

And that dick who thinks he’s Elvis

Bing and Bowie can piss off too

With their ‘pa rum pum pum pum’ bullshit

We’re happy to wave you off John

Although your message is appreciated

Best take your mate Paul with you though

Before we have his keyboard castrated

It’s time to step out and away now Elton

With The Jacksons, Jonah and Chuck

And as for the ‘NYPD choir’

We couldn’t give less of a fuck

We’ll really only miss you George

Like we do nearly every day

So perhaps, this year, we could keep you

Instead of giving you away

Last In Line

If you continue to push this

She said

And I am forced to choose

You really should be prepared

She said

For the fact I won’t pick you

Cloth Ears

Why would you ask me

A question

If you don’t want to hear

What I say

It really is fucking

Annoying

That you feel you can treat me

This way

The Bake Sale

Bringing
along
your
flask of
coffee

And
your
frosted
homemade
cake

Doesn’t
make you
any more
likeable

Or any
less
fucking
fake

Tick Tock

There’s
nothing more
likely to
piss me off

Than the
metronomic
sound of a
clock

For the
counting
of time as
quantifiable

Mocks me
in a way
that is
undeniable

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