Treasure Island

Gypsy Boy Varey

Mocking Bird II

I can hear that fecking bird
Mocking me with every word
Sat chirping in his tree
'Cos I can hear but I can’t see

No window in this cell
I’m not taking it very well
No window in this pad
Let’s just say: I’m feeling bad

Wish I was outside with a gun
Then he wouldn’t have such fun
Then he’d be like me and unhappy
And not such a chirpy chappy

When they put me down the block
I must say it was a shock
To find I can’t see out
Therefore always I’m in doubt

About the time of day
Or if December or if May
Block windows are quite drastic
Opaquely grey and made of plastic

I’ve got plenty natural light
But lacking any outside sight
I’m going mentally defective
Day and night with no perspective

Four walls and a door
Ceiling and a floor
A toilet and a bed
For my a*se and for my head

No TV to pass the time
Nawt to do but writing rhyme
I’m not one for complaining
But no inspirations’ doing my brain in

A supressed but natural poet
Writing clichés and I know it…
Watching ants on walk about
But jealous when he then walks out

He is just a poor wee mite
But getting squashed now just for spite
Bad karma’s not my way
But I’m having a bad day

And that fecking bird’s still there
It’s the chirping I can’t bare
Winding me up, don’t you know
Chirping and wont fecking go

Prison changes everything
Turns a smart man to a ding
Turns sane men into mad
And turns good men into bad

Submitted: Monday, August 26, 2013
Edited: Friday, August 30, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

(c) varey 2013

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