Nobody said that he had to work so goddamn hard
Expected it all right from the very beginning
Something going on up inside of him for sure
Something oh so miraculous, oh so pure, minus the finish-line
Of course
Time – patience is a virtue
Although he couldn’t quite place it, understand it, see he might just need to earn his stripes
Unable to put two and two together
Earmarking what is unhinged, worryingly unstable
Perhaps a little or a lot to do with his an utter failing when it came to high school maths class
Fits of frustration, false elation
Reaching each and every single day for a wake-up call, for a dash of poetry to fall upon important eyes, prise open previously unfounded veins of inspiration
West Cork’s overnight sensation
But everything seemed to need to happen right away
Interviews, heady articles and the likes, an unknown child pass by on his bike
Somehow manages to recognise this man’s face mid early-morning cycle
Point a jam-stained finger in his direction, whilst what’s strange continues to concentrate upon his page
Wage war, mounds of scribbles flung right back into that bottom drawer
Jaws of hope closed, disposed of
No interest in observing each and every single word dance like a dunce at first, before finally beginning to linger, quench its unquenchable thirst
Had to realise that it would all come down to a back-story like no other in the end
These indeed the Life of Brian anecdotes upon which it would all depend
Pretty bloody selfish
Not a soul in the crowd, whilst he strummed that mic. except for an over-supportive mother
He did try to laugh off the bare fact that he wrote poetry – told old friends both near and far that this was, in fact, a disguise for the real thing
When really it may just have been all that he wanted, what he couldn’t help but bring
Wayward albeit intelligent rhyme, gregarious font
Wanton
That atop a sidebar, always and forever, serving pints to all and sundry, Monday through God awful Monday – side-stepping all of the time a ridiculous degree of anxiety, a most unsavory rhyme all of its own
A maths class far above and beyond
Desperate to unearth the perfect quip, witness these outrageous stories unfold – strip away all of the critic in you
Cocky to say it but why can there not be just this one instance where the ‘writer’ always knew
Watch yourself and be careful or you’re looking at a case all too akin to ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’

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