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Others are immature
The poet plots and plans his mind
writes words which can be viewed
strips the inner brain from the outer crust
depending on the mood.
Penning words that simply flow
from the deepest depths of his soul
not caring what the others feel
he acts and plays his role.
Sitting naked (but just in mind)
he scribes a point of view
and wishes that the inner strength
got his body in the nude.
The brain in tune with all himself
so that he can write as one
and the critics laugh at what he writes
and they giggle at his bum.
So the next time that you feel ill at ease
and you don’t feel so secure
let all your inhibitions run away
whatever you do be sure
to be at one within yourself
all the others are immature.
Chilham to Canterbury
June 29th 2002