.

I thought I’d play

the rapping game:

words in rhythm

(no chance of gain).

.

Shyness prevailed,

but undeterred,

I told my plight

of meanings blurred.

.

Then someone said,

“Your word’s divine.

Shall we partake?

Have you the time?”

.

I said, “Oh no!”

What did she mean?

I’m only here

for dreams I’ve seen.

.

I spoke of mist

on mountains high,

and told of bliss:

my lover’s sigh.

,

Then someone said,

“Hey man! You’re gay!

I’ll fcuking punch

your head, one day.”

.

I said. “Aw heck,

spit out, pray tell,

but first, my dear,

go learn to spell.”

.

I tried to speak

of mankind’s bane:

starvation in

a world of grain.

.

Then someone said,

“You must be black.

Don’t want you here,

so sod off back.”

.

I said, “Maybe,

you could be right,

but then again,

you’re talking sh!te.”

.

To raise a laff,

I rhymed in verse

of farty boys

and girlies worse.

.

Then someone said,

“Are you my son?

You walked away,

left deeds undone.”

.

I said, “Not me,

can’t be the one.

My Mam and Dad

are long since gone.”

.

I shouted out

my point of view,

exposed my soul,

(my backside too).

.

Then someone said,

“You can’t say that.

I’ll have you banned,

you’re such a prat.”

.

I said, “Oh no!

Not you as well?

Don’t like my words?

Then go to hell.”