he's as loud as a damned circus
the idiot
this is getting beyond a joke
he's obviously stinking drunk
singing and shouting
by turns
such an idiot
she has been tolerant
but it's enough
the neighbours
god knows what they think already
and now this carousing
as though he could possibly think
it would do him any good
he can't even sing when he's sober
and this is just awful
look at him
a bottle in his hand
a fence to lean against
and a bloody stupid song to sing
at the top of his bloody stupid voice
calling her name now
he's fallen over
that's IT
LISTEN TO ME YOU FOOL
GO AWAY RIGHT NOW
OR I'M CALLING THE POLICE
WE'RE FINISHED
DO YOU HEAR ME
GO AWAY
I'M CALLING THEM NOW
see what that does
surely he'll leave soon
she'll have to call them
more damned fuss
idiot
~
-
Author:
Frank Prem (
Offline) - Published: March 5th, 2018 00:01
- Comment from author about the poem: The Book of Evenings.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
Offline)
Comments3
He will have to go. Or will he?
He's gone, GF. Totally g-o-n-e!
And then he sobers up - will he know what an idiot he was?
I doubt it, Lorna.
Another fine write, Frank!
Let’s hope he stays sober
once he sobers up!
~Laura~
Well, we can surely hope. Not hopefully, though.
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