RSS Feed

Nobody likes a Needy

A ditty penned by yours truly when I was feeling super needy and I couldn’t borrow a pet.  We’ve all been there.

You used to
look at me like I was it,

With a
capital letter, I was It, the Shit.

Not your
stars, you world or all of that,

but one who
held your interest, for a meal or a chat.

But something
has happened, I don’t know what,

Suddenly
that’s not the case, I don’t have a shot,

At getting
you to focus on me, notice me, have a joke with me

You’d
rather do something else, stare at my head over the TV.

How I wish
that you would stare at me, as if I were 4od,

Instead my face is tracing paper, not a window but not a tree.

My words
are not enough, it seems you’re in too far,

Instead you
shush me like my Dad did when I was noisy in the car.

It’s not
like you are deaf, you always have time for hip hop,

And isn’t
that just angry men moaning about money, guns and cops?

Surely my
words are nicer or at least easier to hear

My animal
noises are second to none and my jokes deserve a cheer.

But maybe
that’s where I’m going wrong, I don’t complain about the hood,

Eastbourne
wasn’t a ghetto and my rappings not very good.

But music
isn’t the food of love, sorry duke Orsino,

Rather FOOD
feeds your desire, from steak to a dorrito.

I wished
you looked at me like you do your kebab,

And even
when it gets messy, you don’t scold, you dab.

Oh to be
that greasy meaty mix, the one that you adore,

You would
hold me gently in a pitta, nibble my edges and gnaw.

You’d gorge
yourself on my flesh, my very scent you’d inhale

You’d
submerge yourself in my fatty embrace and rush to tell the tale.

I never
used to be like this, I used to be carefree,

But now I
find an early life crisis has found its way to me.

I thought
this happened much later in life, 40 years down the line,

When after
being married so long, its ok to stop trying.

I ate 4
toffee crisps today

Why, you
ask, I don’t know, I say.

Something
to do, something to mention,

It made me
feel sick but it got your attention.

Oh God,
that proves it, I’m mad as a frog,

I’ll out my
handbag in the over and start talking to the dog.

I’ll go out
in my pyjamas, like I’ve escaped the ward,

I’ll
believe I’m Micheal Jackson, or the Queen or a lord.

Advertisements

About iamlikeawednesday

With a stick of rock and deckchair in tow, I arrived from the sea-side three years ago. Being half mermaid, I’ve been dipping my tail into all things London. Including the Thames (not recommended). I like all things free, as the best things in life are, and will only leave a party or club at gunpoint. Come say hello! I’m the one dancing with the weirdo in stonewash denim, shouting “one more!” as the lights come up…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: