I’m a poet and I know it
So the caffeine tells me
Long hours behind the
Screen,
Coffee cups clattering and
Releasing the muse, y’know
We share a bed and pajamas
And a toothbrush, to keep the
Costs down, because
I’m a poet and I know it
I spend my days behind the
Books, who feed me new ideas
And a chance to share with the
Muse on the loo.
Art magazines and greasy poetry
fill the void, if you can
mind the smell, because
I’m a poet and I know it
Mornings are the worst,
wiping away sleep and trying
to keep the cats from my bowl.
I stick to the thick book,
plastered to my chair, with last nights
spree of sex and hair.
I’m not that bothered, and who should
be with an army cats, and a litter of
books that swamp the shitter, because
I’m a poet and I know it
Days run away from me, like a
giddy spastic. Today I kicked a
cat up the arse, to get to my mug
of plastic. I don’t think
much of the kitchen, and the
bombed out sink I live in, because
I’m a poet and I know it
Remember these words, when you’re
next on the john, expressing an idea
That’s yet to come loose.
No one can keep up
with life in general or the
joy you’re meant to find. Britney
Told me this from the Playboy, before
I could kiss her goodbye, because
I’m a poet and I know it