the weekly poem.com

Growing Up

I am an anti-social type,
And won't respect your space,
I speak a special kind of tripe
And push it in your face.

My fuse is very, very short,
My actions coarse and crude,
And, left alone to have a think,
I am inclined to brood.

I like to boast, I like to strut,
I mix up rights and wrongs,
And sing, when I am quarter-cut,
Some very stupid songs.

Of course, I'm tricky to predict:
I seldom know the time.
And you should see the spots I've picked
To carry out a crime.

They say that it is in the brain,
They say it's in the cells,
That we are fated, can't refrain
From being ne'er-do-wells.

Sex and drugs, and rockets, too –
A long-list of abuse.
But we are presidents, and who
Will give us an excuse?

Read the Telegraph article here

Read Bill's daily 'Bill Posters' blog by clicking here

Growing Up
Scientists from Maryland (why is it always Maryland? Ed.) have discovered that teenage behaviour is not hormonal, but the result of 'brain pruning', a process which means that teenagers lose 1% of their brains each year. North Korea fired a rocket 'capable of carrying a warhead', but which allegedly launched a satellite playing revolutionary songs.
April 8 2009

POETRY KIT WEBRING

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