Hate…

I have begun to hate you…

The way you sit on your high horse,

thinking you’re without fault,

while everyone around you competes for the best position

to kiss your fat ass.

I have begun to hate you…

Your slobbish, and grotty habits,

that make it a full time, despicable job,

for which you practically need a team of cleaners

attached to your heels

every minute of every day and night,

merely to keep the place clean-ish.

I have begun to hate you…

The snide remarks about me to (the constant stream of) visitors,

designed to make everybody laugh,

while a tiny bit more of my self esteem

shrivels up and abandons me.

I have begun to hate you.

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Goodbye God…

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I just used him for his six pack,

his perfect male bod.

Gave him years of love and tears…

 

He only saw himself as God.

.

Holier than thou…

Gods gift to the world

demands centre stage.

It has to go his way,

or it’s the highway to rage.

 

Stamping his feet

he throws his weight round,

giving lectures for hours

he likes hearing his sound.

 

A well practiced charmer

with the women he chooses,

his affection’s the prize,

it’s his girlfriend who loses.

 

 

.

Gravy train…

Row, row, row your own boat

stand on your know-it-all feet.

Stop riding coat tails

and pay your own way

Quit shitting on all who you meet.

 

You’re big enough to be a dad,

to a baby you don’t even raise

Gods gifts don’t work – you can’t juggle a job

with a full time career in self praise.

 

No-one is impressed by you

You’re shameful to your blood

Anyone could be a man

If ‘man’ meant unfussy stud.