Politician Chops A Tomato In His Kitchen, Another Politician Sips Tea In His Second Kitchen

Politician chops a tomato
in his kitchen
Now he's chopping a lettuce
in his kitchen
He's saying things at the same time
in his kitchen

He's endowed with multi-skilled sets
Yes he must live in the real world I've guessed
He can chop a tomato
And then a lettuce
And talk at the same time
I've never chopped a lettuce in my life
in my kitchen
I have chopped a tomato though
But it wasn't in my kitchen
It was in someone else's
kitchen
It was a pretty weird situation
That pretty weird kitchen situation is for another poem
And probably one you won't want to read
if  I'm being honest
So I won't be honest..honest.

Well that tells us all we need to know
I'm convinced
I always wondered whether he could chop a tomato
in his kitchen
It's not easy at the best of times
You know that
I know that
Let's not pretend
And he did it all in front of the cameras
in his kitchen
Chopping a lettuce truly earns my respect
And should earn yours too
A man who can chop a lettuce and talk about not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still in his first
To think that far ahead
in his kitchen
While chopping a tomato
and then a lettuce
in his kitchen
Talking at the same time
in his kitchen
About not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still serving his first
That truly earns my respect
Like watching a marine punch a gazelle..

And regardless of whoever's kitchen I happen to be in
Were I to be in your kitchen for example
I would feel that same swell of admiration
And I promise I would never chop a tomato
in your kitchen
And definitely not a lettuce
Just in case you're wondering
I don't eat lettuce
And even if I did
I would never chop it in your kitchen
Even if I were to be in a really bad mood..

And here's another politician
This one is in his second kitchen
Conversing with his wife while drinking tea
in his second kitchen
I know that could never be me
I don't have a first wife and I don't have a second kitchen
(and I don't really sip tea for I'm an uncouth gulper
probably my Indian upbringing)
Thus I could never be a democratic socialist leader
Although I'd like to be
Who could believe in me
When I don't have a second kitchen to sip tea in
with a wife which I don't have
Listening attentively to my democratic socialist thoughts
While sipping tea which I wouldn't sip anyway
Being more of an uncouth gulper probably because of my Indian upbringing
in my second kitchen
which I also don't have..

To be that man who can sip tea so nonchalantly
Not even in his first kitchen
But in his second kitchen
The one that he's not used to sipping tea in
That's beyond the call of duty
So beyond you
And me
So who really lives in the real world
Well I think that's plain to see

It's Another Man Thing

Us men -
We write poetry about love,
Because we aren't very good with words.

Job Interview: I Loved It There So Much I Had To Leave

So tell us why you want to work here

I was impressed with your annual report, and attended one of your seminars.
I have no interest in learning tedious office IT packages, climbing the corporate ladder, improving my so-called work skill sets..

I mainly stare out windows and daydream. Your windows are very impressive, different colours..Some reflect and refract the light in interesting ways I bet..

Yes, when we commissioned this office to be built, one of our first requirements was to incorporate different shapes and colours. Windows are one of the most important things, yes? We also discourage corporate skills, they give us a bad reaction. That's good.
 
Now what do you bring in terms of experience?

I've been daydreaming for decades. In my last place I managed a team of daydreamers. They manage themselves now. In fact they are so committed to the cause they daydream for others. We actually secured the UK's largest daydream commission. It's time for me to move on, spread the word. I loved it there so much I had to leave. They want me to spread the word, evangelise daydreaming.

We know, really impressive. What other skills can you bring to us?

I astral project, bend space-time reality, stand around and stare into space, lie down, and occasionally walk around aimlessly listening to music..I'm exceptionally good at that.

That's lovely. The UK is so short now of people with such experience. What would you do to address this shortage?

Apprenticeships. Young people are especially wonderful at daydreaming. They should be encouraged to do it all day long. I'm amazed that at the moment there isn't even one app to help people do nothing but daydream. It's a worry.

We agree. We have a project in development, a quantum daydream app. 

And what is your greatest weakness?

Chocolate.

Wonderful! It's ours too. We have a chocolate emporium on our roof. You can eat chocolate while gazing at the sky, watching the lunar waves ripple and wash over the twinkling lights of Aristarchus.

No kidding! I do that all the time; it's one of my hobbies.

Well, talking of hobbies, what other hobbies do you have that you can bring to the workplace table lying prone while staring at the stars?

Sometimes when I'm half-asleep I've been pointed to the strangest YouTube channels. They help me have lucid dreams. Captain Bill, Crrow777, Streetcap1, 1967Sander..

Captain Bill?

He's a Brazilian guy who channels Mythi, a benign extraterrestrial. It's fabulous.

Are you daydreaming now?

Are you daydreaming now?

Yes. It's a good world we both live in here.

Well, everything seems to be in order. Your references checked and..so welcome on board! 
Let's go to the chocolate emporium and chill. The sky awaits.. 

Things To Do When Your Heart Is Broken

Things to do when your heart is broken

The second part of this poem is entitled Fridge Magnet Fuck Buddy Poem.
So if you want to skip the first part of this poem
for the more salacious, less spiritually uplifting second part, (or should that be fewer?),
Go ahead.
You should feel ashamed though.
It's up to you.

And just so you know,
We'll know.
(It's not just about fighting terrorism.)

You can save yourself a further eleven seconds
not reading this part too.
Though please note this intense and aggressive build up,
Will help you lock on,
Aggregate and calibrate your audience.
I hope you're not on drugs - or things.

Things to do when your heart is broken

Chuck grumpy glamorous people in hedgerows,
Comb the whiskers of a walrus,
Tickle the toes of a baby mole,
Eat blancmange with gusto.
Don't be surprised if you still feel low,
But at least know,
Baby mole will always love you.
Always,
And forever,
Up to the time,
That baby mole grows up and dumps you a "so long..".

Ah yeah, but you know that will happen, so that's okay.


     ****************************

Moving on.
I'm receiving lots of emails from glamorous women,
Imploring me to desire them as their f*ckbuddy.
Their explicit coyness designed to enchant;
They always send their emails begging me to be their effasteriskbuddy,
Directly into my spam folder;
To shy to fire their amorous missives directly into my inbox,
They fantasise the come-hither thrill, testing my detective skill, the cyber silken sheet chase.
James Blunt.

These comely ladies are from all over the world.
They really must support my poetry.
I suppose I can't blame them.

I reply to all:
Dear LusciousLips, HornyBeijingGirl, LatinMinx, etcetera,
Thank you for covertly approaching me to be your,
ahem,
Effasteriskbuddy..
You obviously enjoy my poetry
A Lot.
However,
I have to decline your passion offered.
You see, I'm celibate,
I live in a tree-house,
I only talk to owls,
And my best friend is a crazy witch that lives in the forbidden forest, (just by the motorway).
Cheers anyway!

And you'll be shocked by how many replies I receive, typically:
"Oh don't worry,
Just help me with my visa,
Pretend we're a couple and we want to marry,
And I promise to leave you alone,
I won't force you to be my effasteriskbuddy..".

I just ignore them;
I know they are lying.
At their first opportunity they will taunt me,
Tie me up to the bedposts for the rest of my days.
I'll be a man enslaved!
No way!

They must think I'm stupid.
And think of the poor owls!

Please note -
You can save yourself another two minutes of time,
By not reading any of the above.

Don't believe in conspiracy;
Be in the matrix.
Indeed, be,
Be the matrix. 

I Am The World's First Selfie Poem

I am the world's first selfie poem,
Held aloft by the world's first selfie poem stick,
A look-at-me wordsmith pic,
Here I am fluttering beside Tower Bridge.

So here I pose on the left bank;
Here I'm by the Eiffel Tower,
Here I selfie seductively next to the shower.
Ignore the bidet -
Admire my framed parchment hanging above a plastic flower
pot.

Here I am analysed by a poet I barely know,
Here I repose at a jazz festival amid falling snow;
Fractal flake dew blushes my paper skin,
Ink suggestively oozing, blotting,
Have I been crying or exercising?

Here I am tender and damp,
Here I am sunbathing, drying beneath a lava lamp,
My words florescent and glowing,
Quite becoming, a little knowing.

Do my words look big in this?
Are my right words in the wrong order
a hit or a miss?
Am I a PUA verse,
Or a try-hard blow-hard piece of doggerel, cursed?

Here I'm a selfie poem looking for love,
Not a one-night-stand performance poem only read once,
Then abandoned, carelessly tossed away, orphaned on the street,
Clasped by a refuse collector with his selfie poem collecting stick,
Torn,
Unshared,
To be recycled, reincarnated, cared for, repaired..?

Hidden Meaning

Acrostic 
Poem