Trapped in a web of tangled steel
Gnawing at my unmoving bonds
Spider of love dissolves my nerves
Soul limp with desire
Caught in a whirlwind of time
What is real: is unreal
What is: is not
Forever, is a common touch
Cry for me Pray for me
But please; don't lay it on me
All right I've had my say
My bones are crushed
Brain unfurled on the carpet
That's something your stain remover can't beat
Whistling waiting
How long now have I been enmeshed
In this monstrous web
What tonsure rite of civilisation is this?
Am I but a part of the whole
Or am I just a hole in the ground
Six feet deep
For all to conquer
For all to weep
Piss off and let me sleep
Enmeshed Tangled
Just a gutterpig-poet
What's the matter with the world?
I can cure its disease
Yes I the divine
The greatest sage of all time
The Universal power house
Being a gutterpig-poet
I never even finish a poem
I run out of time
I run out of ink
I run out off ideas
I have just run out the door
My pen continues to write
Tell me pen
What is your opinion of a gutterpig-poet
Enmeshed in a web of tangled steel
With a limp soul
Who thinks he's god
But he's rushing to finish
Because he's got to do his eight hours
Then come home again
And be a gutterpig-poet
Who thinks he's god

Wait no longer for an answer
I wiped my arse on the question paper
(Written between 7.25 & 7.50 a.m. one morning while waiting to go to work)