Get me some stuff
A culture and some bluff
A hard hand and bad beat
Poker accounts all over the streets
Lets bet on some horses and imagine the football fair
Take me from the Sunday school
Keep me street aware
I don’t know the author of my Friday blues
I’m hoping I’m eternal
My mum’s death is not up for review.
The spinning and infinity
The churning of the empty gut
The riddles of the wise me
The sell outs in a rut
Choices and decisions
Nothing much spent from the Indian affair
Sold out books and Satanism
Keeping the children aware.

Sex is for their education
Things we did not have
Blocked up emissions from the Homeland
British Asian langue
Nothing much with to hang
Bands in the deranged plans
Of a tomorrow without a good abundance
Brahma is with Abraham perchance
And Bachchan is wiling away the hours
Countenance divine in the Indian playing fields
Wars from the shopping lines
Drinks are on the house
Navy Seals in the responsibility category
Meditation sandwich
Things our house can’t cope with
Compressed mind and Shiva Shakti
Waking up and walking around some times help her
She’s feeling empty
The DVLA won’t let us drive
Conniving Administration
Butlers and Chauffeurs for the right Colonial names
Dates and assholes everywhere
The clothes don’t fit the L and XL
Obese from Mrs Medication
“Rohan! It’s for life!”
Go get one, away from me…

Writing is a freed up act again
The nation is healed from a writer’s strain
Craving a graduate status with his own property portfolio
Keep me away from the queers of Malvolio.
This Victorian insidious unkempt moronic nationhood is not my hunting
Leave it with Amal and some one time punting
A lady in a lake and what could have been
Had she known Greek was a myth for life with Martin Sheen.