Fuck forty approaching,
And fuck metal mats,
Fuck fractured feet
Turning black like rats,

Fuck wandering round
With a walking stick
Exposing the frailties
Of this silly old dick,

I’ll forget the bruises
And broken bones,
Bollocks to bandages
And swollen toes,

I’ll not sit back
And fizzle away,
So watch out world
I’m on my way,

I’ll be the madman limping
And falling down
Cursing his clumsiness
Like a circus clown,

It would’ve been clever
To sit and stop working,
Ignore the garden
And the leaves collecting,

But no, he says,
It’ll be done in a jiffy
Till the mat fell down
And I fucked like a hussy,

I wanted to show them
I’d tidied the place,
I wanted to swim
In their gratitude and grace,

Well, next time I’ll know
To just let the leaves blow
Maybe better a mess
Than a broken toe!

Well it serves me right
For wanted to be noticed
Cause they’ll see me now
All battered and hopeless,

But I’m slowly getting fond
Of this walking cane,
So perhaps I’ll grow
A bearded grey mane,

And sway through the streets
In the wind and the rain
Saying fuck, instead,
To the prodding, prickling pain!

So bring on Forty,
Bring on your force,
I’m saddled and ready
I’m a stubborn, striding horse!


Published by deuxiemepeau

Published poet, writer, baker and former fashion maker, with footprints in Paris, London and Amsterdam but currently back home in Dublin with sights aimed at leaving a mark on the West coast one clear fine day...

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