I have an opinion on everything.
Even when I don’t, I do (if you know what I mean).
Unless I’ve experience to bring to the party
I have always an uncle, a cousin or mate,
in whom to reflect my own kind of glory,
who’ve done something extreme, it’s never too late
to jump right on into your conversation
embellish my ego, attracting your love;
to raise my profile in your estimation;
to shake the Almighty, as he sits above.
It’s all about how much you know, you see,
how determined you are to be the best.
It gives you a sense of elation for free
and if that doesn’t work, I can drink for the rest
and on Monday morning, tell a bleary-eyed story
of how much I imbibed and how I got home
(or don’t remember that bit) but all the more hoary
is the tale of my life and how I survived
whatever it is that I did and came through
and succeeded, just look at me now much revived.
All the same, I want adoration from you;
need your constant attention, unconditional praise;
don’t want to get angry or aggressive and chew
your ear off to show that I’m right in all ways.
So listen, you bastards, you do love the sound
of what I’ve to say, even though I abuse…
please help me, lest one day a body be found…
…and it’s on the news!
© 2009 John Anstie
(View the author’s commentary on this poem)