Pink Not Blue

He comes on rushed and very late,
An oh so flustered and kaotic state,
He helps himself to my belongings,
What a nerd, such grave misdoings.

He did not even pardon himself,
For touching someone else’s wealth,
What makes him think he can do,
Inconsiderate bastard and impolite too.

Oh this world is made up so,
Of rushed and panicked, bad and woe,
Unaware and ignorance bliss,
For he not knows pure love and kiss.

I asked him nicely to touch not to,
His defences rise, cranky and blue,
A simple request went unheard,
He cannot fly, broken wings of a bird.

He then continues to be a shit,
His actions smelling a hairy armpit,
He drops his bag on my feet,
A lovely way for a morning greet!

I find a seat, nice and quiet,
And a beautiful woman with a healthy diet,
Its often men who make me feel,
Come on you jerks what is the deal.

The power game is oh so wrong,
It’s weak and dumb, not too strong,
Grow up boys, the world needs you,
To make this place bright pink not blue.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2005 MCARB