Theory Beat Poem - Poem by Kim Cresswell
Life really does confuse me,
As sometimes I just have to be,
The most awkward person in a conversation,
Simply because the utter preservation of my mind,
Excels the reason in which the conversation was started,
And now it seems my false logic has parted,
So I have no idea what I'm saying.
So where do you begin,
When you are thrown into a situation,
In which there is no self preservation,
And are asked one of the most philosophical questions that could arise,
In such times as to advise...
On the sheer matter of weight,
And the amount in which you ate, the other night.
Does it really matter that you are 100% fatter,
Than you were when you were 21?
I do not understand the mere fretting over weight,
As surely its just part of the complex theory of fate,
That you are the size in which you are at this time,
And I know as a fact that it is not a crime,
For your bum to look big in something,
But then again, this is just a word string,
Exploring the ethics behind obesity.
Forgetting about the fat and all of that crap,
I would like to come onto the subject of alcohol,
And the uncontrollable drinking of ethanol,
In which some people expose themselves to,
While pouring themselves an unnecessary amount of 'brew',
And it's surprising how much damage it can actually do,
But a glass of red wine is fine.
Will anyone ever listen to my ramblings,
About obesity or gambling,
Drinking Alcohol or eating pies?
I somewhat don't see them doing so in my eyes,
As now I feel what other writers feel,
And it is actually quite a big deal,
When your work isn't recognised; people would rather eat pies.
So how do I conclude such a poem that has no way of knowing,
What it's actually about,
I don't know, my imagination is slowing,
It's useless in comparison to such works of art as Storm,
But in a way I've use it to inform,
Those of you who are of the above,
To simply love,
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