Little Princ(ess)

She’s outgrown her ideas
Of whom she had to be
Maybe you’re torn between
The past and the present;
today and tomorrow

So let’s unwind not without wine
And hold unto our spine
like the winds of summer
Abrupt, a comeuppance
For hoping for the sun
So let’s begin the fun

Eyes,
Sealed off by local tapas
And familiar breweries
Taking stock of her pallid self,
On a Friday evening,
Caressing her thoughts to take
the weekend by the horn.

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On Being Us

we are quite far from our middlescence
lurking on, pushing on
and stravaging sometimes

let them call us lotus-eaters
and poke fun at our demeanour
let them stare and label us bumbleshoot,
hampering their manna-rains

dudgeon, that’s what they feel
cos we muckrake them,
and they think we love throwing shade,
and that we take pleasure in the spotlight,
penning what the constituents feel

let them rant and continue to
call us age-old lotus-eaters.
we won’t mock their potbellies
and their shabbiness
cos that’s what they seek to trigger

we are still quite far from our middlescence
pressing on, carrying on
and still stravaging sometimes

the beau idéal, that’s not what
we seek to become
but let’s man up,
by pushing on what’s truly right