Mike the Singer

About my poems:
I started writing poems a few years ago. My first poem was ‘Mickey the Muck’, which I posted a week or so ago. Some of my poems are silly, some are happy, some are sad and some are gross, but they are all a bit bizarre. So read and enjoy.

Now Mike was a guy
And he loved to sing
And Mike, he would sing
About most anything

Seems his focus was people
On every occasion
And he’d sing about folks
Of most any persuasion

One day, his songs told
Of a guy on a Harley
Whose clothes were a mess
And his face, it was gnarly

By the look of this guy
You could tell he chewed nails
And I’m certain he’d broke
Out of quite a few jails

Without thought for his safety
Mike started his song
And at first the guy sat there
Like nothing was wrong

When Mike got to the part
About a gross nasty smell
The biker guy looked
Like things weren’t going well

The biker guy stared
With a twitch in his eye
And he seemed to be thinking
Of ways Mike could die

When the song turned to baldness
The guy lost his cool
From a bag he produced
A quite strange looking tool

As he headed toward Mike
People started to hide
But the guy dropped his tool
He sat down, and he cried

See, Mike’s song didn’t change
Not even one part
But he touched that mean biker dude
Deep in his heart

The biker got up
Wiped his face with a sigh
Then he drove that weird tool
Right straight through Mike’s left eye

The biker was touched
That’s all I can say
And Mike learned
A valuable lesson that day

You can’t sing about bikers
Without one single care
That is, not unless
You’ve an eye, you can spare