I wonder what the fuss is
No one sits next to me on buses
And travelling by train
The situation is the same
I’d chat to anyone
Happily about anything
From why Joe Pasquale
Should be in Guantanamo Bay
To advanced Chaos Theory
Which isn’t dreary, honestly
But still no one sits near me
But there’s a consolation
To public transport isolation
On National Depressed Coaches
Smegabus or Squittylink
Loads of people you meet
Looking for an empty seat
The slobs might slump right down
Lean on you and fall asleep
But they avoid me like scabies
Wouldn’t want their daughters to have my babies
They think I look a mix of
Marley and Charlie Manson
But less handsome
They stare at my dreads, with dread
So I scrit my pits and scratch my head
And each prejudice without fail
Recalled from reading editorials
In the Daily Mail
Sets them running when they see me
And the seat by me stays free
So, if you want spacious coach trips
Here’s Rapunzel’s top tips
Don’t use conditioner on your hair
Marinate it in brew
Never moisturise your skin
Cover it in body piercing
Become allergic to soap
Wear clothing until it falls to bits
In fact just become a minging git
Business class tickets are for idiots
Upgrade to crusty class
Business class tickets are for thick twits
Upgrade for free to crusty class
It’s the ruling class, in a Whitehall farce.
I’m an expense nabbing Labour MP
I’m a dense grabbing Tory grandee
or grasping liberal non-entity.
Recession doesn’t apply to me
because I don’t live in reality.
I need to claim for everything I eat
and a black glitter toilet seat
I need to claim for horse manure
in fact my claim is horse manure.
I need workmen, is that so bad?
to trim the hedge round my helipad
like it or not, my boiler’s too hot
and like me, my house is full of rot.
I can’t put in my own plant bulbs
I can’t put in my own light bulbs
I need to reshingle my drive ways
my second home should be Strangeways.
I need to claim for a Plasma Telly,
pest controls, security patrols
tennis court, the crap I’ve bought
trouser press, jackdaw nests
new kitchen, gardening
solicitors fee, stamp duty
patio heater, moat cleaner
wooden floors, seven doors
and oh dear, a chandelier
security shutters, cleaning gutters
tiling, painting, insulating.
I’m glad I claimed for the patrols and the moat
’cause you want to break in and slit my throat
and the biggest joke in this pantomime
you’re paying your mortgage and paying mine.
I need the head cleaned on my shower
this verse could go on for another hour
because I’m fully corrupted by the power
I’m fully corrupted by the power
my second home is an ivory tower
I’m fully corrupted by the power
my second home is an ivory tower.
My Unusual Pet
I found a cloud
in the cupboard under the stair
I fed her on bread and loads of fresh air
I called her Shona
I took her to school
She looked like a ball of cotton wool
Everyone said “You’re a fool
To have a pet like that”
I thought it was cool until she ate my cat
So I gave her away to the SSPCA
They said they would have trouble finding a new owner
for a badly behaved cloud called Shona.
In the tropics of London
you get jungle, up here
it’s forest thickets.
This was wildwood,
now a tangle of streets,
but I never lose my way
on the spirit journey.
A canopy of low rise roofs
blur into distance,
overtopped by emergent
tower block pines.
No trance state is needed
when discarded flyers
curled up at the edges
like autumn leaves
litter the gutter,
and dotting stone pavements
are lichens of chewing gum.
I can read this language,
trace the ancestral essences.
The road is a watercourse
sploshing with car engines
to be forded at traffic lights.
No moss grows on the north side
in the plantation of council flats,
but satellite dishes all point south-east.
I will never lose my way.