Whole Grain Thinker
After I'm gone,
the world won't mourn me.
But I'm not forlorn, be-
cause the few who knew the man,
who I tried to be,
forgave me (for my 'also ran').
Nobody's perfect,
I've heard many propose.
In their comatose
pursuance of 'who gives a fuck',
they foul the paths and roads.
Sole destroyers (man, does that suck!)
Grumpy old git.
Is that what I've become?
Just a meddlesome
old man with nothing more to do
than spoil all the fun?
Lawks-a-mercy! (tell me it ain't true)
A whole grain thinker,
a tinker of words,
kicking over magic turds.
Looking for what? Lies - beneath
which stagnation girds
the imagination (like a sterile sheath)
[A quick aside,
Before you read the last,
"My sweet 'backside'",
Pronounce it ass not arse]
That's my nutshell,
job done, I'm self-assessed.
"Well, he did his best"
Not the utmost peak of epitaphs?
So write this on my chest:
"His goal was to split the wits from the chavs"
