Some people think they know,

Some people think they know,

Sitting in the sun

Under an umbrella

Drinking a martini

Choosing to smoke

A big fat Havana

Because they can.

Stinking of rot and dead skin

Nose pickers

In the bedroom

Wearing dark glasses

Eyeing up the ladies.

Sweat on the forehead

Slippery pink faces

Licking their lips

Making rude gestures

Believing they are god’s gift

Demanding the best

Thinking they are Svangali

Because they get what they want

Laughing at the college boys

Working for peanuts

Breaking hearts

Sacking family men

Because they can.

Juggling genetics

The right of might

A tidal mark of cream

Across enhanced skin

Pores as wide as Etna

Fat cat heaven

On the deck of an ocean-going yacht.

It is what I deserve

For being the best

Stick it to the mug

On the shelf

Cracked old pots

Waiting for handouts

At the food bank.

Plant a tree for Christmas

Build a tower of babel

Rich men’s playthings

Rattle with old jewellery

Whilst the audience does

A soft shoe shuffle

To keep warm.

And all the while

The flabby skinned

Philanthropists

With the plastic hearts

Strapped over bulletproof vests

Sit on high

Drinking from the vine.

Taking time

To pull on a cigar

Blow smoke rings

Out of a crinkly fat arse

Thinking they have it all

It is theirs by right.

Because they believe

Everything is anything

They want it to be

And nothing of value

Is learned until the end

When it is too late

To chop and change.