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In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Sunny about his own poems.
Go Fish
Everybody's fishing for pennies
if only the water can bear money.
Though every river, does have bank,
instead of notes, it’s full of stones,
that are wet, cold, and grow miserably old.
Yet cash always smiles,
knowing we humans, are wildly mild,
so, the Queen’s pretty face,
grins and beguiles,
knowing that she, can't ever be found
spreading her legs, in these washed-up towns.
So, while we look to the puddles and ponds,
and the gaps and holes in our couch,
if only we knew how strange we look,
frowning and drowning for a pound.
What about Hope
Are you looking for hope?
I hope not.
She's not here.
Here lies her grave,
a great ending to a boring life,
a life with no money,
just her teeth and her smile,
smiling with parted lips,
lips not kissed in a while,
while she slaved all day.
Day turned into dark,
the dark led her to a club,
and she partied hard,
until it was hard to leave,
leaving 4am in the morning,
mourning the parting,
with her loud little friends,
friends who drove her home,
home to a house,
that she didn't like to live in,
but in it she lived,
and lived the same death,
everyday.
Smoke Weed anyway
Smoke weed anyway, try your best to get laid,
do a nice job, so you end up getting paid,
go out with your mates, order a burger on a plate,
have yourself a fag, roll a blunt anyway,
then you hustle at the office, rock up at the gym,
work on your abs, put your litter in the bin,
then you take out your pen,
write about your day.
Every day is the same. Smoke weed anyway
Now don't jump queues, be respectful,
take off your shoes, my home is a temple,
doesn't really matter, if you're happy or you’re blue,
pour yourself a drink, have a zoot or two.
Then you wake up next morning, have a cup of tea,
go do your shopping, get yourself a bag,
check out your emails, switch off your phone,
chill by the river, take a nice walk home.
Then you take out your pen,
write about your day.
Every day is the same.
Smoke weed anyway
Now you need some money, borrow it from your dad,
your auntie's dead, and your mum's kinda sad,
but you don't really care, cos you never really liked her,
just to be nice, you pretend to feel bad,
then you meet this girl that you really liked,
you missed your chance, she's with another guy,
you messed it up, because you're always high,
then you go to bed, have a wank or cry.
Then you take out your pen,
write about your day
Every day is the same.
Smoke weed anyway
You wake up next morning.
You’re kinda depressed.
You smoke too much, should you give it a rest?
But my brain says no, and heart says no,
Life is tough, just smoke some dope.
It’s either that or you kill yourself.
Then you get on the train,
Tell the commuters about your day.
Every day is the same.
Smoke weed anyway.
Me, Myself and I
My name is Sunil. I wrote this poem at 35,
but time flies, and this poem’s edited at the age of 39.
I am the same as before,
naive and a knave, neither rich or poor,
a minimalist to the core,
insanely boring, but less is more.
Socialising is a chore,
so my therapist is a wall.
I’m 5 ft 9
and 3 inches short,
too well behaved,
never been to a court.
My childhood dream,
was to be a monk
to do fuck all,
and sit on a wall.
I grew up on benefits,
Never did me any benefits.
I went to schools,
run by crooks, cool and cruel.
Did many jobs,
not needing a tool.
Raised as a Hindu,
confused for an Arab,
A clown in reality,
but I dress like a spook,
read many books,
but I still can’t cook.
Now I’m a driver.
From Kilburn to Croydon
toxic women.
Like potholes, I avoid ‘em.
I don’t know where I’m going
but I keep on running.
I might be on the wrong road
But, fuck it,
life is a race,
A rower should keep rowing.
About the poet:
Sunny Patel
Actor / Voice Actor
