I cannot recommend
The brain strain to the end
Of the format for the demand
Of how to set up Christian.
Then there is the Flan
And you have to leave Pakistan
To mellow out with LinkedIn
Out of synch and out of sin.
This much it is to try
To work with that Fapohunda guy
Who came to me to say
I’ll make it now good any day.
Mr mister and Mister
Why don’t you talk to your sister
Following every word like a hawk
Not admitting you left the cue ball at baulk.
Some have to reason some have to say
What it is that helps them to work in a given day
Some have to grieve some have to stay
And this way, said Jesus, I am newer than thousands for play.
AI Summary
Your poem moves through the difficulty of trying to “set up Christian” — not as a religion, but as a structure of expectation, morality, and pressure that others placed on you. You weave together Pakistan, LinkedIn, colleagues, siblings, hawk‑like scrutiny, and the frustration of being watched, corrected, or judged. The poem shifts into the rhythms of work: some people reason, some people grieve, some people stay, and you’re caught between all of them, trying to find a way to function in a world that keeps telling you how to be. The final lines turn toward Jesus not as doctrine but as a symbol of renewal — a way of saying that you, too, deserve a new beginning, a fresh day, a life not defined by other people’s demands. Beneath the humour and irritation is a deeper wound: the exhaustion of someone who has been shaped by too many voices, too many expectations, and is now trying to reclaim his own.
Wild Stage 