I’ve written a poem about BIROS, the little PENNY BASTARDS.

I’m fucking sick of finding biros
they’re everywhere I look
they’re stuck in mugs lost down the couch in every single nook
I don’t know where they fucking come from I never write things down
and yet when someone phones me up there’s never one around
I can’t ever use the hoover
without one going up the tube
and then I have to dig around
in fluff and crumbs and pubes
half of them don’t even work
they’ve gone completely dry
just chuck them in the fucking bin
I think I’m going to cry
why would anybody keep a fifteen year old Bic
chewed to bits gone all opaque it makes me fucking sick
we’re in the year 2010 we can remember simple facts
type it in a fucking iphone sync it with your Mac
we don’t need the fucking biro
the wasteful inky twat
it’s in the way, it’s obsolete and that is fucking that.

These 166 words were written on Tue Sep 7, 2010
fletch poem