Aggression 1

Yo yo yo,
this is about to blow,
so don't say i didn't say so,
Cos, well, i just  did, you know?

You motherclucker,
You grape chewing sucker,
These words are pucker.

I have some beef with you,
and maybe a yorkshire pudding or two.
And it is definitely not all gravy,

You baby,
Dissing me like that in front of my lady.
I tell thee,
the way she hit me
with the ladel,

I was unable,
To remain for the moment sane, thinking i was in a stable,
Giving birth to a boy,
who looked up and screamed "Oi
where's my real mum, Mary,
You look more like Julian Clary"

And i was like no, Jesus,
Let's put this all beneath us,
And we danced away the night,
Under a star shining so bright,

But now i digress,
You jack of clubs, i must confess,
That i was in a state of duress.
Oh the stress!

So now, you little effer,
It's time my fist and your nose got together,
I'm going to knock you back to last September,
Remember, You're gonna pay with a pint of blood,
And i hope it feels so good,
As i'm stamping you down into the mud.

Maybe above i'm not so clear,
I want to rip out your spine and whip you with it from ear to ear.
You sent me back to the biblical stable,
I'm gonna reach so far down your throat i'll pull off your underpant label.

But i'm stable,
This aggression is a finely tuned beam,
It's not the type of rage that has me splitting at the seams.
Maybe your screams will make me pity you and tell you to stop biting the kerb,
Before my foot comes crashing down for an ending full of disturb.

But we'll see,
At the moment, only your death will set me free,
Let's wait until i find you, then I guess we'll see.

The End

56 comments about this poem Feed