I want to be clever,
To work this out,
To arrive at the answer,
To irradicate doubt,
I want to get it right,
To tick all the boxes,
But my tick wont fit,
And that's what the shock is.
The 't' wont be crossed,
The 'i' wont stay dotted,
The ink like blood has spilt,
My mental page is blotted.
I cant unsee what,
I've seen from a boy,
I cant ignore the feelings,
I chose to employ,
The twin hounds of faith,
And doubt, have grabbed one leg each,
They're tearing my trousers,
With razor sharp teeth,
And as they pull,
And fight for my jeans,
It seems what's neglected,
Is the Man underneath.
And I come to realise,
That it's not faith but beliefs,
That I can shed these trousers,
And walk off in my briefs,
Hand in hand with my saviour.
This simple act of faith,
Is a complex act of trust,
A resigning of self,
But an all-essential must.
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Careful with that baby He is dangerous, I tell you, You can wrap him In swaddling But you cant contain him You can put him in a mange...
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As children we learn Though the principle pain is palpable, Though the salt trails that mark our cheeks, long after the streams have dried, ...
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This master-work of yours, This magnum opus, This poiema, Is sat in his underpants In a neglected and untidy flat, Typing on a laptop he bou...
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