The dream of me hitting the big time and becoming
a number one performance artist and smashing the charts
hasn't gone quite to plan, now I sing purely for kicks, for
my plants and street animals, and anyone who has the patience
and endurance to go that extra mile whilst I squawk out another
tired rendition of Bugsy Malone - some would pay to have me quit.
And there isn't a name for what pours from my lips and
it hasn't a genre, it's a confabulation of all the misplaced
notes that never made the cut.
It's hopes and dreams and agony foaming from my mouth
and bubbling up from the inner recesses of my very soul.
It's devil may care laced with a degree of piousness. Indeed,
I sometimes believe I have the power to affect the world.
The Dream
18 Thursday Apr 2024
Ezekiel Fish 