Fuck. by John Doyle

Fuck all you mods,
fuck all you rockers,
fuck all you ravers, goth kids, hipsters,
the sophisticated artisans,
the bogman farmers with hands the size of shovels slurping Club Orange on Sundays as pig-shed keys
dangle from Wranglers belt-loops;
fuck all of you who voted yes and fuck all of you who voted no,
the rich, the poor, feminists, misogynists, the 1930s religious zealots
and the right-on
progressive atheists;
and fuck you Mr. Whippy, parking your ice-cream van in the disabled driver space.
What any of these have to with unlawful carnal knowledge, I'm fucked if I'll ever know.
Oh, and fuck the 19 year old arts students beside me in ironic hard-rock t-shirts, and ironically digging 1980s power ballads.
Yeah: fuck you and Mr. Whippy most of all

John Doyle became a Mod again in the summer of 2017 to fight off his impending mid-life crisis; whether this has been a success remains to be seen. He has has two collections published to date, A Stirring at Dusk in 2017, and Songs for Boys Called Wendell Gomez in 2018, both on PSKI's Porch.

He is based in Maynooth, County Kildare, Ireland. All he asks is that you leave your guns at the door and tie up your horses before your enter.