Back Off

There have been a number of articles in the UK press recently regarding introversion and extroversion (I suspect somebody famous within the self-help field must have a book coming out, although I will plead ignorance as to who this might be for the time being as I am not all that well read in this particular genre). Having long been interested in human interaction, common character traits, personalities and the way we categorise people, I can all too easily see the danger of those who stick out as ‘different’ being consigned to the rubbish heap by those only interested in promoting mainstream thinking and behaviour. The trouble is we are all different. If we weren’t, nothing would ever change. We wouldn’t create or build anything, as things would be set up to suit everybody. The whole of humanity would stagnate.

In the interest of promoting diversity of personality type in the workplace, I scribbled the following:

Introvert, but still adept
At social scenes, though quiet, yet
My presence: one they don’t forget

The schemes I hatch for work, refined
Some ‘off the wall’, but hold, rewind
They fit, is what I tend to find…

And though you might not quite agree
That workers should, in mind, be free
(You feel the urge to pester me)

To oversee the half-baked plan
Leaving your mark as ‘man who can’
But this is not your also-ran.

So give me time and space to breathe
Without the stress of need-to-leave
And see what we may both achieve

Mother’s Ruin

I had the bizarre experience the other day of being vetted by the mother of one of my collaborative partners, who seemed quite bemused to meet me in the flesh and find there is no romantic arrangement between us whatsoever. I write the lyrics, he records them. End of. This was the poetic aftermath:

Just thought I’d check you out
I worry for my son
You know he gets about
But never sticks with one

So I must do my best
As parent to my child
To sort through what is left
And stop him running wild

You seem a nice, young thing
Perhaps a little old
To be a one-time fling
Remaining pert and bold

Yet I don’t understand
You’re really not his type
There’s something underhand
I’m starting to dislike

I cannot fathom why
He still wants you kept close
When cuter girls and guys
Are thrown out over toast

Just how would you define
The nature of your part
My boy’s not yours, but mine
I hold keys to his heart

So I can lock it shut
To keep my precious boy
Far from the latest slut –
Temptations of a toy

I’m not sure what to feel
About this odd affair
You have no sex-appeal
And yet he seems to care

That I should not offend
Nor even entertain
Such notions of girlfriend
In everything but name

I guess you’re not so bad
The words are pretty cool
So sorry I seem mad
I sometimes act the fool

But promise me, my dear
Whatever else you send
Just so we both are clear
He’s mine until the end