The Naked Troubadour

Call me a fool
I’ve heard it done
because I cannot find it fun
to do what mostly others do.
Instead I’d rather watch the Moon
or sing a tune out in the street
or hug some human when we meet
(for which I have been called “a loon”!)
I’m always willing
to be judged a fool
for knightly acts of chivalry
I held a door
She said: “you fool”
I said “At least I never drool
all over tits and bums,
for that’s what I would
call a fool, not someone
who’s a kind and helpful
bunch of molecules!”
She, being not impressed
by my reply
did scoff full in my face
as if to say “you’re even more a fool
than I at first had thought”.

Yes, I am a fool —
a wart upon the face of man
who wanders lonely where he can
who shuns most groups
who spurns the crowd
who will not join the bristling lads
or follow all the latest fads
at home he continually talks aloud
(and calls himself a senile fool!).

Yes, fool I am!
and fool I’ll always be
for speaking thoughts in poetry
for refusing to fight in old farts’ wars
for taking up whatever just and rightful cause
presents itself along my path
for willingness to give my life
for lovers, friends and partners, wife
for drinking not the devil’s brew
for daring to be one of few
for putting more than gain in view
for never having made a vote
refusing governmental rule.
For all these things and many more —
I’ll put up with the ridicule —
I’m willing to be judged A FOOL!

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© Alan Morrison, 2017
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