Fifty more green sexpots please

I want fifty people

to read my blog today.

Because I’m only fifty short

Of getting my M.A.

But what do readers want to see

On this poetry blog?

I guess I do not know that

I’m blundering through fog!

I write about the birds at play,

I write about the o  sky.

I write about  Election day.

I  scheme to get a high.

I wonder when I’ll reach my goal,

I wonder if I’ll care at all,

I need to write of sex and love.

When will my sweetheart call?

I’m growng subtly paranoid

As no-one looks at me.

Can I do a  dead broadcast

On the BBC?

Do you want to know my fantasies?

Do you see inside my mind ?

Well.why not see inside your own,

If you desnare yourself some time.

Well,I shall mail a pot of tea,

And do  a hand job on my knee.

It won’t be on , I said,  your B.B/C,.

I have not got a royal  licence ,see?

Goodbye fame,

Goodbye   name

Goodbye all  econometricians

Telling lies with statisticians.

I am leaving town today.

Please go out that e way.

There’s little here to fancy for

I ain’t writin’ poetry no more.

I ain’t drawing sketches now

But……………………………..I love you anyhow.!