Thursday, March 15, 2007

This life is a bastard

Yes, it is a big bloody bastard
Sick of all its patterns self-repeating
To eternity till it all looks like a pot of mustard
Sick of having to pretend it's a lovely painting
It ain't no art, more like a loud smelly fart
And what's with all those always lamenting
'bout their lives feeling like a losing card
What good is lamenting ya bloody fools, 's disgusting
At the temple of oblivion should go your regard
Should practice what I preach, I hear you grunting
As if I cared what you say (morons), to me 's like a tank of lard
And so I'll spend the day chanting
Bastards! Bastards! Barstads! ad infinitum, may I add
Bastards!
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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I am afraid to say but you sound like a very sad person. You need to get a life, life is only bad if thats what you make it. All i think the writer of this poem is: is a sad little person that is so sick of life they decide to bring everybody else down by writing silly little poems about life that arent true. Now i think you should get a life, realise life isnt bad somthing bad may have happened but you sound like a very strong person to have written that poem. Get over whatever has happened to you. BE STRONG AND HAVE FUN WITH LIFE. That is my motto and it is pretty good if i do say so myself!