I’m just a common snipe skulking in the gutter
With my short legs, filthy face, squint and stutter,
Cowering from the chorus of curses that they mutter,
Outcast, urchin, ragamuffin, nutter.
They want to trap this guttersnipe inside a birdcage,
Break my thirst for brawls and wrangle with my rage,
Button up my cheeky lip and record me on a page
In a ledger in a workhouse in a new Victorian age.
The inertia of my life was served up by fate,
A spectral existence means I stay up late,
Then I sleep until dusk to procrastinate
Stealing down the crow’s mile to miss my date
With life’s book keeper,
The night creeper,
The pied piper,
The grim reaper.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
The following url links to my reading of the poem (with a bit of a Cockney accent!).
Image found on www.dailymail.co.uk
My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #123 “October 3rd, 2016”