being the worst poet in the world My inspiration came from the ramblings of Bob Dylan and Jean Paul Sartre.
And I quote from the book of Nausea page 31, here he sees a women walking down the street late at night from his flat window and realises he can foresee the future, as he predicts her movements.
" I see the future. It is there, poised over the street, hardly more dim than the present. What advantage will accrue from this realisation?" he goes on to say " I don’t know where I am anymore; do I see her motions, or do I foresee them? This is time, time laid bare, coming slowly into existence, keeping us waiting."
Dead man walking
The sleep that stays in your eyes
The welcome mat which you says goodbye
The wind in your face
While listening to black lace
Keeping up the pace
The rules are made to be broken
But not when its so ken
I need to go straight.
Then eight till late
They say that two wrongs don’t make a right…
But three lefts do….
So I put that to the test its true
The bus stop queue
God I need the loo
I eat to much tiefoo
And always forget to chew.
A women with big,
boots just round the corner
The red man, a goof and a toff
I do up my Mac for the section attack
The green man beeps a fact
God she has a nice,
racks of fruit and stacks of loot.
You snooze you loose.
I'm still full of booze and in bed
Without the women with the nice,
chest of draws i put on my smalls.
the ones with superman calls.