I am not a poet

I’m not black, not gifted, not even young
Never carried a knife to school, nor a gun
Have yet to feature on the ten most wanted
In the hit parade, no mention, by the tabloids I’m untaunted

For the paparazzi never follow me
Don’t flash my scanties for the scallies snorting coke at a party
I can move quite freely round the city streets
Nobody cares about my politics, my weight or bad habits

So you see I don’t meet the entry criteria
Just don’t belong to this mass-hysteria
Nobody feels guilty for my persecution
And I can’t expect apologies or contributions

I never sniffed glue, huffed paint or tried to get high
When there were chores to do, I did them, when I earned I put some by
My youth was not exactly what you’d call misspent
I never caught religious fervour, I’m not trying to repent

My dad stayed home while my mum worked late
We survived without the help of the welfare state
I never got fondled by an errant priest
Not been arrested for possession, prostitution by police

So you won’t see my poems in the magazines
Nor my biopic on your TV screens
For my stable mind and my legal status
Have put me into some sort of poetic hiatus

I can scribble it all down, every golden word
But it is nothing but frustrating if I try to get them heard
For the world is only int’rested in marketing a brand
And the labels all prefer to form their perfect, packaged band

Yeah, I write rap lyrics but I don’t perform them
So my street cred is a lie worn by some kid whose fans adore him
For the master wordsmith that can represent
Who gets his bling and ghetto styling from a Knightsbridge gent

Don’t try to kid yourself that I’m some kind of poet
I’m not down with any peeps, not cool, and don’t I bloody know it!
For nice, polite, well brought up, and hard working women
Can only write the life they know, and that won’t sell a single poem.

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