LitFest

Someone told me there’s a man out there

With hip hop in his heart and curls in his hair

I saw him sitting around with a vacant NRI stare

I knew it was him and I knew I had best beware

Now I’ll stop rhyming.

So I knew it was him from his saffron scarf

And his vacant NRI stare

That vacant NRI stare

Crossed with the vacant stoner stare

Crossed with the vacant hipster stare

I’m saying there was nothing casual about his vacancy

Naturally I

Repudiated the whole occasion

Even before his rhymes surged across the

Genteel postcolonial park

Like an unwanted colonic irrigation

I have no time for these globetrotting

Brainrotting

Best forgotting

Poets with their fucking Apple laptops

(I was supposed to stop rhyming. Sorry.)

Poets should have

Blood in their sputum

Poets should elope

Often and unwisely

Poets should carry

Rotting hearts in lacquered boxes

Not Apple laptops

With backing tracks on them.

Maybe some of those people there

Weren’t total duffers

He says half-heartedly

And walks away grumpy old fartedly