Here's a poem I writ when I was a bit fed up.
I feel like a bird
Moved to fly, or to try
So high, in the sky
(Or to die)
And to detect a big, fat juicy worm
With my beady eye
I feel like a bird
Special thing, on the wing
For a fling, I would sing
Like Evelyn Champagne King
That incomparable sexy soul diva
Ring-a-ding-ding!
I feel like a bird
And, in truth, a bit grim
Hardly trim, a bit slim
Pissed off, to the brim
Could hang me-sen, on a whim
Proper and prim
Thank you and goodnight
Woods 2016
