It's National Poetry Day apparently, so here are a couple from my teenage years. The first was written just after arriving in the UK from Australia (aged 14)
Yoh-ghurt, Vite-amins, Sconns (to be performed)
Yoh-ghurt, Vite-amins, Sconns,
Yoh-ghurt, Vite-amins, Sconns,
The ways of saying these words are obeying
Rules of expanding your cultural standing.
You're making a case for social debase,
By cruelly denouncing the ways of pronouncing,
Yoggurt, Vittamins, Scoanes.
Big Issue
Big Issue, Big Issue,
A tool to accrue street cred,
As I tread down the no-through lane,
Diplayin' my copy for all the world,
My lips smugly curled at the end,
As I pretend to have read it.
I haven't.
Instead it's there to combat the stare
of the next vendor as I pass,
Upholding the farce of my middle-class trauma.
"No thanks!" says I, "Already read it." I lie,
And sell mine on round the corner.