I'm not sure this is totally bad, but I can't be bothered to spam the forum with a new thread, so I'll post it here
This life's a closed-book exam,
except your neighbour scribbles on your sheet
in indelible ink when the boozy invigilator’s
gone to have a smoke
and you end up quoting Madonna
when you meant the Pope
But somehow I seem to have made a vow,
promised you, or myself or the ants
that amid all the
arms-races, after eight mints,
binge drinking, bloodshed, beaches,
Ciceronean orators,
Darfur,
enlightenment thought and emaciation,
fashion, football, French revolution,
Glamour, google, Gaza strip,
hairstyles and hairgels
[unisex-herbal-curl-activating shine]
iguanas,
Jelly Beans,
Krishna, Hare Krishna, Hare Hare,
Hare Krishna
Hare
Krishna Hare
[outside a Birmingham bookshop]
liberals and lullabies and lipsick on a rival’s teeth
[er, you’ve got…. forget it],
moons, music old and new,
nuptials [and divorce parties:
Theseus minus Hippolyta],
oval offices, ora..nges,
predictable! philistine philosophers,
quirks, Quark, quasars,
roadside motels, rendezvous, rendez me,
rendez you, rendez each other for a
sh*g [only one last time, the road will thank us],
tea, transport, Trafalquar Square,
undies, uvular R,
Volkswagen, vernacular, vascular plants,
water crisis,
X, Malcolm
Y, why? Why not? If and but, but why and when and how?
Zemin, your little red book is gathering dust in the attic
I’d still find time to catch a cold.
And as long as there are dusty train stations in summertime
I’ll stay newborn (at four o’clock) in spite of evidence.
I rest my case.
Objection denied.