A poem by Sociable, Gary Ablett and Will the Koala.
I Am Not The Tate
it’s true what they say
i am not the tate
i am not the artist
i hate what they say
in fact it’s a shame
that i hate the tate
my hate won’t abate
it’s too late for apologies
i hide in the gallery
gallery
gallery
i paint with my paws
i am a koala
try not to sneeze
eucalyptus pleases me
but i still hate the tate
i hate all the paintings that hang at 20 degrees
the student observers
know less than my friends
adjust all their earphones
and earphones
and earphones
kangaroos are so easy to please
pamphlets?
muffins?
i eat pamphlets when i go the tate!
What a beautiful poem from a very interesting website!!
Why thankyou Sir Paver, do call again!
My own poem
You must be clean.
You must not be dirty pan leavers.
You must not be workshy when it comes to washing my pans.
Please wash up my pans after use.
Don’t leave me wanting to cook, looking at fatty fatty greasy pans of
your own scraping food filth.
You said you’d start washing my pans, you knew you were lying, you’ll
never wash my pans man.
I don’t mind you using my pans if you wash them after, which you don’t,
which makes me wish you would. But you don’t, you leave findus crispy
pancake pan ache inside my once clean flanning pans.
A left wing misogynist lets himself go with a right wing delinquent who still speaks the words of an 18th century poet losing his touch on mobility listens the speech of his predecessor.