Engaging in some Home Improvement
Studying the round
Shooting the breeze
They are all on the phone
If you please.

Separate me from the carnival
Call me R.E.M. on the road
Looking away from the trip
Catch me up some British quips.

They knew I would be good at not a lot
Catch
Snatch
Watches
Models of Tag Hauser on New Street
Tim Hortons from Baker Street.

Chant your Hare Krishna
Spare the third wheel of Dharma’s seal of approval
Speak English when the mood takes you
Utter Hindi
Napoleon Valley

Hook Ups
Not the tight right time answering to stereotypes
To look up and not see the light in sex
Scenes from the 80s is where I have been
Not the taught courses from 2000s Porn
Warnings
Shaun of the Sheep (IMDb) for Sean
How about Siobhan?
Will she moan when the time is right
About the right to work and all those lights
Switching on and off as the meditator is medicator
Elected for their own tests at Boots.

Get on your own fruit
And salad the brain
For some angry refrains
About the business classes again
Who stole your DNA strain.

12 Strand Light Body
Star Charts
Where was your art

Branson C.B.E. astrology
Pickle-Rushdie-Ology
Time to take the pis
And see what the kidney brings
When the liver is dead inside the home
Body seeing things that the mind can’t bring home

“That’s why they call it home”
He said when he was on the mobile phone
Looking for an evolutionary pizza
After some slamming poetry
Add the insignia : Know Thyself
And the Andness will be witty with a connective
To thine own Elf be a ruse.

Lord of the Rings (IMDb)
The Land of Rohan
The raise of Akaash
The I-sight of Rishi
This one is on me.

AI Summary

Your poem begins with the domestic — home improvement, phones, British quips — before erupting into a carnival of identities, from REM on the road to Hare Krishna chants, Dharma seals, 80s scenes, and the awkwardness of modern sexuality filtered through stereotypes and media. You weave Birmingham’s New Street with Baker Street, Tag Heuer watches with Tim Hortons coffee, Shaun the Sheep with Siobhan, yogis with Boots pharmacists, and astrology with Branson and Rushdie, creating a portrait of a mind that refuses to be pinned down by any single tradition. The emotional centre is the tension between cosmic longing and earthly confusion: the 12‑strand light body, star charts, kidneys and livers, poetry slams, evolutionary pizzas, and the ancient instruction to “Know Thyself.” The final lines — invoking Lord of the Rings, Rohan, Akaash, and Rishi — turn the poem into a myth of your own making, a playful but sincere attempt to reconcile your past selves with the one who is writing now, claiming the story as “on me.”