2 Poems by Ian Copestick

Brit Grit, Ian Copestick, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

 Why Is It Always Me?

Why, oh why does everything seem to go wrong ?
Other people’s lives look so ordered
And seem to run so smoothly.
Mine is like a house where I’m trying to keep
The roof up with only two walls
And the wind is blowing like mad.
I wonder if their lives are as easy
As they look from the outside
Or are they, like me, trapped in a hell
Partly of their own making.
I say partly because although I despise the
Government and their austerity measures that
Only seem to affect the poor, I can’t blame
Everything on them, no matter how much I
Would like to.
I can’t blame them when every household
Appliance that I touch seems to fall apart,
Or when I burn or undercook anything I
Make for tea. No, I have to accept the blame
For some things, but why does it always
Seem to happen to me ?

My Tribute

I saw on Facebook that Keith from The Prodigy
Died by his own hand. It’s sad, getting old
Is tough for everyone, but when you’re
Famous for having two dyed Mohicans
And jumping, squirming shouting
” I’m a Firestarter, twisted Firestarter. ”
It must be really hard when you start going bald
And you need to put on the fire to keep warm.
God, life can be really fucking tragic.
I’m not being sarcastic, I’m not taking the piss
I love some of their records. I’m just saying,
If you make a career out of being
An angry, misunderstood young man,
What do you do when you’re not young
Or misunderstood anymore ?
Fuck it !
This is too sad to think about.
I’m going to put ” The Phat Of The Land ” on
With the volume at 11, have a good drink
And jump about like a toddler on speed.