I used to … / It’s love …

I used to live a life of hard;

A bard unrecognised,

A man unheard.

But now my word begins to sound,

I feel much rounder:

Like coffee ground well, 

With that kick of a taste,

I am that man who ran 

Marathon 

After 

Marathon,

Without realising in directed way

The good he was saying 

Along the roads

His brow did go and furrow.

And the women and men

Who toadied alongside

Attempted to hide their true motivations,

As beautiful minds are there to be fucked up,

Unlike beautiful women who generally 

Are reserved 

That fairly dubious honour 

Of being fucked regularly with.

Only no longer is this any way the case:

The race to destroy me

Has simply served to strengthen my resolve.

And if you felt you could solve

Your crimes of power serious,

As hour by hour 

You led me astray,

You are now way off beam;

Off kilter;

Out of trolley;

Basket cases for clearly 

Basket lives.

And whilst you won the battles

That unspooled so frequent,

At least for a while,

At least whilst you could rule me,

At least whilst you could rile,

Those battles I mention no longer

Rattle my cage;

Or for the most part anyhow,

It’s love that now drives my rage.

One thought on “I used to … / It’s love …

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