Don’t want no mules teaching me

I’m mule enough already

Don’t want the rules preached to me

I’ve preached enough and plenty

No hyperthermic blusters from the experts

No stats, no facts, no nursery warnings on Big Macs

No stoop-to-move-me trash-and-cash commercials

No catalogues of sugar painted words

No noticeboards, no counters, no big blurbs

Don’t need to hear you’re ‘deeply troubled’

And ‘greatly saddened’ too

Don’t heed play-acting ‘that’s unfortunate’

And blowsy ‘how disturbing’ shows

Can’t get a hold on loads of fancy-making decoration

Can’t be told of what’s the gold in pre-packed declarations

I’m a ground-hog

I stay on the ground and live it

With a sandbag for my ears and full stops for my thoughts

Have a silent head when I go to bed

No ring-pull cans go gassing

No multitasking

Just simple asking:

Rock solid Jesus for another meal, another day