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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  5/24/2016 6:51:39 AM
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'Santa Is Just An Old Wives Tale'

I’m not the simpleton you think I am
I’m not the buffoon you’d like me to be
You keep me in a blind corner, whilst whispering away
However much kept in the dark, I learned to see

My dislike of your secretive ways
Your treating me like a court jester
Made me a very bitter person
Who just sat and learned to fester

You could have told me the truth
I learnt it anyway, and took it without pause
Now it’s you who look like fools
I know now, there’s no Santa Claus

You always called me your little man
Which made me want to throw up
Look in the mirror, you’re aging parents
Despite your lies, I did grow up

Santa is an old wives tale
They say he could be St. Nicholas
He made parents lie to their kids
But he must really be old Nick, alas
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Small Town Boy'

‘Small town boy’

I went away to stay away
But wherever I went
It was just like home

So I came back
I am here to stay
A small town boy

Michael Micmac Mccrory
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'That Was Me; But Who Am I? '

‘That was me; but who am I? '

I was that man
Had gun did travel
Shot others for a fee

I was that man
Yet was that man me?
He's not who I am now

This old dog
Learnt some new tricks
I don't do what I used to do

That man was a part of me
He no longer exists
Yet without that man

Who would I be?
Would I still be me?
Am I me?

That was me
Should the question be
Who am I?

Michael Micmac Mccrory
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'The Game Of Life'

‘The Game of Life’
Where would we be?
Without the eccentric
Life would be square
And never concentric
Now and again
I need the odd
Wouldn’t it be wonderful?
If we were all god

My head’s permanently in a mangle
My life is a triangle
Looking askew
Life is always a left angle
I wish I were normal
I want to blend in
Yet I could never be formal
Men in white send in

You never see
My point of view
However, I can see
Straight through you
You think you would like to stand
On the outside of the frame
You never will because you think
That I am suited and it’s for the lame

You’re so happy
It is my game
It is my life
I am the man with no name
And so my life goes on
Out in rain, hail and smog
Spat at and pissed upon
Always the underdog
Forever last in; ‘THE GAME OF LIFE’


Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory