Tag Archives: poetry

Psychographic Profile: I am an intern

I am an intern,
And I take myself very seriously.
I go to an expensive advertising school,
Where they teach me to be a designer and an art director and a copywriter and a marketer and a client service person,
And when I graduate,
I will be the most amazing advertising being,
And you will all bow down to me
And my Cre8ive Recreation sneakers,
That I bought on sale
At Poppa Trunks
(which is more of a T-shirt store than a sneaker store, just FYI)

I am an intern,
And I am frustrated.
How am I supposed to show off my genius
When the internet doesn’t even work in this sh*thole agency
(oops – did I say that aloud?)
Also no one is telling me how to work the frikkin’ printer,
What do you expect me to just ‘figure it out myself’?
What kind of a show is this?

I am an intern.
I’m giving up my holiday so I can be ‘assured of a job’,
So just shut up about the rece$$ion because rece$$ions only affect mediocre people,
And I am not mediocre bro.
I am the top of my class
(why else would I be here?)
All my lecturers say I’m brilliant,
I even have ‘genius’ written across my portfolio
(Just as a joke, but I actually really mean it),
And my lecturer also says I will suit a ‘creative’ agency
More than a corporate one,
Even though my lecturer says  I am versatile enough to handle both.

I am an intern.
The senior copywriter teases me.
I frikking hate her, stupid bitch.
She thinks she is soooo smart,
Always cracking her sarcastic jokes.
I’ll show her, I’ll put her in her place.
I’ll say
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit”
even though she’s actually using irony
(my writing course wasn’t that in-depth).
I’ll just call her on it,
And she’ll know who she’s dealing with.
Bitch.

I am an intern.
Just wish I could graduate and start working already.
I’m sick of pretend,
I’m ready for the real world.
Just wanna get out there and make some ads.
Am sooooooooo frustrated,
And the frikking internet is soooo slow,
Facebook won’t frikking upload pictures.
Gonna text my friend and invite him to the bar
And pretend I ‘own this joint’,
And offer him beer as if it is my own

I am an intern
Where’s. My. Desk.

Psychographic Profile: I am Michael Jackson

Say my name, tards.

Say my name, tards.

I am Michael Jackson
I am dead now and, to be honest,
It’s a bit of a relief
Things were getting tense there.
I was supposed to go on tour,
My ‘comeback’ tour,
But I was nowhere near up for that shiz.
I was fragile and scared
And sick,
My body totally let me down,
But I guess I let it down too.
NEwayz, no regrets,
I had a good run,
And I am free now.

This was my shout-out to spidey-bro.

This was my shout-out to spidey-bro.

I am Michael Jackson
But I don’t really identify with my personal brand anymore,
Kind of felt I was living a lie for the past 10 years,
But too much $$ depended on it.
So many people with kids who needed a salary out of my name
That I felt bad,
But I really couldn’t deal,
So I hid away in Dubai
Where people wouldn’t think I was weird for covering my face.
I just wanted to be alone.

The Portrait of Michael Dorian Jackson Gray.

The Portrait of Michael Dorian Jackson Gray.

I am Michael Jackson
Deep down, I just wanted to dance,
But that made some peeps think I was gay,
Which made me even sadder.
The only people who didn’t judge me or want something from me
Were children,
So I hung out with them.
Then people said I was a paed.
If only they knew I had lost so much faith in the world
That sex with anyone
Was the last thing on my mind.

At least kids were honest with me about my fucked-up face, unlike all my sycophantic manager bros.

At least kids were honest with me about my fucked-up face, unlike all my sycophantic manager bros.

I am Michael Jackson
I just wanted to make people happy.
My shrink said I had a ‘need 2 please’
But I never really saw what was wrong with that,
Until I tried to please everyone too many times
By having another surgery
And my face fell apart.
Which was kind of ironic because while my ‘image’ was melting,
My soul was soaring and I thought
Maybe I can carve myself into someone else,
And then everyone will leave me alone
And let me dance with my kids at my house
In private.

Just want to walk down the street without being hassled.

Just want to walk down the street without being hassled.

I am Michael Jackson
And though I wanted ppl to leave me alone,
I wish my friends had called more often-
Neverland got really quiet on Sundays,
When everyone was with their families,
Happy and loved.
So I decided to have children of my own,
To love and be loved by,
When the fans went home.
And I loved my kids,
And I did my best to protect them,
I even called my one kid ‘Blanket’ so he could feel real protected,
Even though ppl thought I was a freak.

My gift 2 my kids will be their faces.

My gift 2 my kids will be their faces.

I am Michael Jackson
Hope you liked my work.
Please don’t go all crazy now that I’m gone,
Because y’all weren’t that nice to me when I was alive,
But it’s okay.
We’re all just ppl.
Just trying to be happy.

Try be nice 2 yall next King of Pop, K?

Try be nice 2 y'all next King of Pop, K?

I am Michael Jackson
And I am free now.

End of year poem. Time to reflect. Remembering this time last year.

Happy holidays everyone. May all your online xmas pre-orders ship on time.